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﻿Title: The Chautauquan, Vol. III, February 1883 - A Monthly Magazine Devoted to the Promotion of True Culture. - Organ of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.
Author: Literary, The Chautauquan, Circle, Scientific
Language: English
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[Transcriber's Note: Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic
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THE CHAUTAUQUAN.
_A MONTHLY MAGAZINE DEVOTED TO THE PROMOTION OF TRUE CULTURE. ORGAN OF
THE CHAUTAUQUA LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CIRCLE._
VOL. III. FEBRUARY, 1883. No. 5.
Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.
_President_, Lewis Miller, Akron, Ohio.
_Superintendent of Instruction_, J. H. Vincent, D. D., Plainfield, N. J.
_General Secretary_, Albert. M. Martin, Pittsburgh, Pa.
_Office Secretary_, Miss Kate F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J.
_Counselors_, Lyman Abbott, D. D.; J. M. Gibson, D. D.; Bishop H. W.
Warren, D. D.; W. C. Wilkinson, D. D.
Transcriber's Note: This table of contents of this
periodical was created for the HTML version to aid the
reader.
Contents
REQUIRED READING
History of Russia.
Chapter VII.—Galitsch and the Great Republic of Novgorod 241
A Glance at the History and Literature of Scandinavia
IV.—The Eddas: Later Swedish History 244
Pictures from English History
V.—The Battle of Pancake Creek 246
SUNDAY READINGS.
[February 4.]
Social and Religious Life of the Israelites from Saul to
Christ 248
[February 11.]
Christ and the Apostles 249
[February 18.]
The Bible and Other Religious Books 251
[February 25.]
The Bible and Science 252
Grace 253
What Genius Is 254
Arizona 255
The Six Follies of Science 257
The Co-Related Forces 257
Some German Art and Artists 259
The History of Education
IV.—Persia 262
The Weary Heart 263
Advantage of Warm Clothing 264
A Tour Round the World 267
“We Must Not Forget Our Dead” 271
Tales from Shakspere
King Lear 271
Hamlet, Prince of Denmark 275
The Sun-Worshippers 279
C. L. S. C. Work 280
Local Circles 282
Questions and Answers 286
Outline of C. L. S. C. Studies For February 288
Answers to Questions For Further Study in the December Number 288
C. L. S. C. Round-Table—“How to Conduct Local Circles” 289
A Translation
Of All the Greek Passages Found in Volume I of Timayenis’s
History of Greece 292
Daniel Webster 292
Editor’s Outlook 293
Editor’s Note-Book 295
Editor’s Table 297
Graduates of the C. L. S. C. 298
Books 302
REQUIRED READING
FOR THE
_Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle for 1882-83_.
FEBRUARY.
HISTORY OF RUSSIA.
By MRS. MARY S. ROBINSON.
_CHAPTER VII._
GALITSCH AND THE GREAT REPUBLIC OF NOVGOROD.
We have briefly traced the history of the principality of Kief and that
of its rival, Suzdal. Another powerful state, in the twelfth century
was Galitsch, the modern Gallicia, the Red Russia of former days, a
region south of Poland. This province, peopled by the Khorvats, or
white Kroats, had ever remained Slavonic in nationality. Its princes
were elected by popular assembly, and retained their dominion by its
consent. The intercourse of Galitsch with her neighbors, Hungary
and Poland, led to the formation of a powerful aristocracy, which
succeeded, first, in controlling the popular assembly, and later
in superseding it by an assembly composed exclusively of nobles.
When Iaroslaf Osmomuisl, the same whose praise is sung in the song
of Igor, put away his wife, Olga, for his paramour, Anastasia, the
nobles compelled him to burn the latter alive, to banish her son, and
to recognize Olga’s Vladimir as the rightful heir. The young prince,
however, followed in the dissolute ways of his father, and went so
far as to take for his second wife the widow of a priest, in defiant
violation of a law of the Greek Church. The boyars summoned him to
deliver the woman over to punishment. The prince, alarmed, fled to
Hungary with his family and his treasure; and though in the vicissitude
of events, he was recalled after a time, and bore rule for some years
before his death, his dominions passed to Roman, prince of Volhynia,
whom the Gallicians had invited to bear rule over them when Vladimir
had fled from the realm.
This Roman was no easy-going, light-hearted prince of the usual
Slavonic type, but a southern Andrei, a stern hero, visiting vengeance
upon his enemies and striking terror into the barbarians. The Gallician
boyars who had opposed him were put to death by slow torture. To some
who had escaped from the country he promised pardon, but upon their
return he confiscated their possessions and procured their condemnation
to death. He was wont to say: “To eat your honey in peace you must
first kill the bees.” He put to flight the Lithuanian tribes of the
north, and harnessed his prisoners to the plow. This act of subjugation
is commemorated in the folk song: “Thou art terrible, Roman; the
Lithuanians are thy laboring oxen.” The report of his stern valor
reached the ears of Pope Innocent III, who sent missionaries to bring
him over to the Papal Church, and who promised by the sword of Saint
Peter to make a great king of the Gallician-Volhynian prince. In the
presence of the envoys, Roman drew his own sword from its scabbard
and asked: “Is the sword of Saint Peter as strong as mine? While I
wear it by my side I need no help from another.” He met his death in
an imprudent, unequal combat, during a war with Poland, in 1215. The
chronicle of Volhynia names him “the Great,” “the Autocrat of all the
Russias;” and the chroniclers generally extol him as a second Monomakh,
a hero who “walked in the ways of God, who fell like a lion upon
infidels, who swooped like an eagle upon his prey, who was savage as a
wild-cat, deadly as a crocodile.”
A more magnanimous hero was Roman’s son, Daniel, whose youth was
roughly schooled in adversity. To his principality came Mstislaf the
Bold, son of that Mstislaf the Brave, whom we have seen defying the
tyranny of Andrei Bogoliubski. The younger Mstislaf was a knight
errant, riding hither and thither in search of adventures. He wedded
his daughter to the young Daniel, and virtually bore rule in Galitsch
till his death in 1228. In wars with the Hungarians, the Poles, the
Tartars, Daniel demeaned himself as the worthy son of a mighty sire,
and toward the Gallician boyars, whose turbulence had endangered
the state, he used a repressive, though not so severe a policy as
that pursued by Roman. The Mongol invasion, that overthrew all the
Russian governments, ruined Galitsch for the time, along with the
others. Daniel did his best to support his shattered country, but was
compelled, as a matter of personal safety to take refuge in Hungary.
When permitted to return to the desolated principality, he invited
thither a vast number of Greeks, Armenians, and Jews, upon whom he
conferred abundant privileges as an inducement for them to remain
in a depopulated country. The last named people, alien, tenacious,
obnoxious to all Christian civilizations, an isolated race wherever
their restless fate and their love of gain lead them to emigrate,
have proved a disturbing element in Russian nationality. Incapable of
assimilation, or unwilling thereto, their population of three millions
have no interests, no sympathies with the rest of the nation, save in
the intercourse connected with barter, or the stewardship of estates.
A continual source of irritation and antagonism, they are “the Polish
scourge” of the empire. The hospitality extended to them by Daniel
Roman is regarded as the one mistake of his otherwise sagacious
administration.
Unable to cope with the all-devouring Mongols, although he made
repeated efforts to check their advances, Daniel took part in various
European wars, always with brilliant success. The Hungarians spread
the fame of the order of his troops, their oriental weapons, the
magnificence of their prince, whose Greek habit was broidered with
gold, whose caparisons glistened with richly-chased metals, and with
jewels, whose saber and arrows were of marvellous workmanship. His
warriors were equipped with short stirrups, high saddles, long caftans,
or robes, turbans surmounted by aigrets, sabers and poniards in the
belt, bows slung at the shoulder, and arrows in the quiver. Their
coursers were fleet as the east wind.
Daniel was among the last of the Russian princes to render submission
to the Khan of the Horde. “You have done well to come at last,” said
Batui, when the prince presented himself at the Tatar court. The
khan waived the humiliations usually put upon the princes at their
reception; and seeing that the mare’s milk offered his vassal was
distasteful, gave him instead a cup of wine. The Gallician-Volhynian,
however, was ever feverish under the hard yoke of the Mongols. The
civil conflicts of his youth, the ruin of Russia by the Mongols, and
the European wars that filled his later years, left him no repose. In
a more propitious era his rare powers could have rendered enduring
service to his states. As it was, he could not so much as save his own
Galitsch from the arrogance of a foreign conqueror. Upon his death
it passed to other princes of his family, vassals of the khan, and
two centuries later it was lost to Russia, by absorption into the
kingdom of Poland. Its fate is unique; for with this exception, no
integral state of the early Russian realm has ever become the permanent
possession of aliens.
Unique, also, is the history of the wide and glorious principality of
Novgorod, the political center of the Russia of the Northwest, the
Slavic home of liberty. Its name shines upon the brief but resplendent
roll of free nations with Sparta, Arragon, Switzerland. Nay, in the
magnitude of its extent, in the exaltation of its freedom, it is not
shamed in comparison with our own republic. The sentiment of liberty
is traceable from the beginnings of history. During long periods in
the earlier epochs, it lay concealed, a spark covered in ashes; but
has ever re-kindled in an auspicious time, lighting horizon and zenith
with its effulgence. Under the subjections, the servitudes of the
ancient empires, the Hebrew theocracy conserved this inextinguishable
aspiration of the race. If certain of the Hebrew kings oppressed their
subjects, they found them ready for protest and for revolt. When the
Roman empire laid its yoke upon the world, the Hebrews of Palestine
chose national extinction to national thraldom, and perished by the
talons of the Roman eagles. Even then stood ready the new races of the
North to catch the falling torch, and to bear it aloft in their sinewy
hands. In the mediæval darkness, it glowed, a beacon-light from the
summits of Arragon in Spain, and from the peaks of Switzerland. But
before Switzerland had a name, when Arragon was scarcely more than a
name, Novgorod, by the frozen lakes, far in the wilds of an unknown
country, unexplored, untrodden by any civilized people—Novgorod, hidden
in its northern nights, was cherishing a freedom such as the republic
of the Netherlands cherished in the sixteenth, and the republic of
America cherishes in the nineteenth century. To the Slavs of Ilmen
belongs the proud distinction of guarding intact through more than six
hundred years the instinct for freedom inalienable to the Slavic race.
The unrest, the ferment of the Russias to-day, may be traced back to
the glorious history, the pathetic surrender of Novgorod the Great;
and those who seek to read hopefully the signs of the times, look for
the day not far distant, when the venerable “My Lord, Novgorod,” shall
receive again his banished bell with weeping and with acclamations;
when again his citizens shall assemble in the court of Iaroslaf, and
shall proclaim liberty to all his children gathered within his vast and
ancient borders.
As we have written, the Novgorodians, Slavs of Ilmen, were the people
who founded Russian unity, by the call of Rurik. When he came to
them, their city contained a hundred thousand inhabitants, and was the
capital of a realm that had a population of three hundred thousand. At
least three centuries must have been required for the making of such
a state; nor is it improbable that some of the aboriginal Finns known
to Herodotus (B. C. 500) mingled with the Slav emigrants who passed
the confines of Asia in the fourth Christian century. Ethnologists
are of opinion that the early Novgorodians, like the other Russians
of all time, are a composite race. The earliest chronicles of the
city describe it as divided by the Volkhof, and situated on a vast
plain in the midst of dense forests. The river runs northward, from
Lake Ilmen to Lake Ladoga. On its right bank rose the cathedral of
Saint Sophia, built by Iaroslaf the Great; the Novgorodian kreml, or
acropolis, enclosing the palaces of archbishop and prince, the quarter
of the potters, and the zagorodni, or suburbs. Here, in 1862, amid
national solemnities and festivities, was dedicated the monument to
Russian unity, that ennobles a thousand years of Russian history. The
left bank contains the court of Iaroslaf, the quarter of commerce,
as also those of the carpenters, and the Slavs, _par eminence_. In
the earlier centuries it possessed also a Prussian, or Lithuanian
quarter; and hither resorted merchants from all parts of the Orient.
In the fourteenth century, the city was enclosed by ramparts, formed
of gabions, strengthened at frequent intervals by stone towers.
Portions of these defences still remain, attesting this immense extent
originally. The cathedral, scarred by the wars of eight centuries,
still preserves within the vivid hues of its frescoes, its pillars
adorned with figures of saints painted upon golden backgrounds. From
the interior of the dome, bends the divine form of Our Lord; beneath
him hangs the banner of the Virgin, borne upon the ramparts in times
of extremity, for the strengthening of the souls of the besieged, or
to strike dismay into the souls of the besiegers. From the cupola,
the light falls dimly upon the tombs of the mighty Iaroslaf, the holy
Archbishop Nikita, whose prayers once extinguished a conflagration, of
Mstislaf the Brave, the hero who defied Andrei Bogoliubski, and of many
another captain and saint.
This principality was to old Russia what New England was to our
Republic in its initiative period: a center of commerce, a hive of
industry, the home of the national freedom and religion. It possessed
seven large tributary cities, among them Pskof and Staraïa-Rusa, (old
Russia.) Its five provinces covered the whole of Northern Russia, as
well as Ingria, beyond the Urals. Among these provinces were Permia
on the upper Kama, a land rich in gold and other precious minerals,
and traversed by a road leading through a mountain pass; a road
connecting Russia with the commercial centres of northern Asia, with
Persia, China and India; Russian Lapland, the country of dried fish,
reindeer, and fur-bearing animals; Ingria, Karelia, and the ancient,
wealthy countries of Esthonia and Livonia. The principality of Novgorod
included an area seven times that of our New England. In the capitol
were held two large annual fairs; the trade in corn, flax, and hemp,
especially from the twelfth to the fifteenth century, made it a
commercial entrepôt of such importance as to give rise to the Russian
saying, “Who can prevail against God and Novgorod-Viliki!” (the great).
Its population was four hundred thousand; ranking it in this respect,
at the time, among the chief cities of christendom. When Sviatoslaf,
grandson of Rurik, conqueror of the Danubian Bulgarians wished to
reside in the sunny land of Kief, and govern “My Lord Novgorod the
Great” by deputies, the vetché of that city sent him the message: “If
you do not wish to reign over us, we will find another prince;” nor
would they rest content with a lesser personage than Sviatoslaf’s son.
Sviatopolk, another grand prince, essayed to force his son upon them.
“Send him here if he has a spare head,” said the Novgorodians. In
truth the princes knowing the curbs put upon their personal power in
this republic, coveted rather, the lesser appanages. Vsevolod Gabriel,
discontented with his freemen, left the city to reign at Pereiaslavl.
After a time he signified his wish to return, but the citizens declined
the proposal. “Prince, you violated your oath to die with us,” said
they; “you sought another principality: go now where you will.”
Some years later he effected a temporary accommodation with them,
but again abandoned his post. Whereupon in a great vetché, wherein
were represented Pskof and Ladoga, sentence of condemnation was read
against the renegade Vsevolod. “He had no compassion upon our poor; he
attempted to establish himself at Pereiaslavl; at the battle of Mont
Idano he and his drujinas were the first to flee before the men of
Suzdal; he was unstable, sometimes uniting with the prince, sometimes
with the enemies of Tchernigof.” Vsevolod was banished from the realm.
The Novgorodians were ever ready to cite from the code of Iaroslaf,
granted them, as they aver, by that law-giver, and guaranteeing
them large privileges. No authentic traces of this code have been
discoverable; but the people conferred their own privileges. The
_vetché_, summoned by the great bell in the court of Iaroslaf, was
the virtual sovereign. By its pleasure the princes of the state were
nominated, elected or dethroned. If a prince opposed the will of the
_vetché_, the citizens “made a reverence, and showed him the way out.”
Before its tribunal he could stand accused. If he persisted in an
oppressive course, he was put in durance. In like manner the _vetché_
elected and deposed the archbishops of the republic, decided for
peace and war, conducted the trial of state criminals, and all the
other important business of government. Decisions were obtained not
by majority, but by unanimity. If the minority stood out stubbornly,
the majority summarily threw them into the Volkhof; for with all their
wealth, pride and freedom, the Novgorodians retained an occasional
trace of their barbaric origin. Commercially, their city was the
glory of Russia. Large numbers of the people were occupied in the
trade of the Dneiper and with Greece, and still larger numbers with
the trade of the Volga and the East. The soil of the lake region is
marshy, sandy, and sterile; the cause of frequent pestilences to its
relatively dense population who are also the prey of famines, since
their supplies have to be brought from afar. In prehistoric centuries,
Novgorod maintained a commerce with the Orient, attested by the coins
and jewels exhumed from the barrows of the Ilmen. It exchanged iron
and weapons for the precious metals procured from the Ural mines by
the Ingrians. It bought the fish and wares of the Baltic Slavs. In the
twelfth century, this northern metropolis had a market and a church
for the merchants from the Isle of Gothland,[A] and in this isle
arose a Variag church, attended by Novgorodian families. The city had
likewise a large German market, fortified with a stockade. The Germans
had the monopoly of all the western trade; no Russian being allowed,
by the terms of their compact, to sell German, English, Walloon, or
Flemish products. Hydromel, works of art from Byzantium, rugs, felts,
tissues from India, fabrics from the looms of Persia, tea, and curious
wares from China, filled its bazars. In 1480, when Ivan III, himself,
Viliki, or the Great, crippled its liberties, he despoiled it of three
hundred chariots laden with silver and gold. The adventurous mercantile
character and the proud, free spirit of this people, is typified in
the Novgorodian Sinbad, Sadko, hero of the popular epic, who sought
his fortune on the seas. A second Jonah in a storm, he plunges into
the waves, and is received into the palace of the sea king, who tests
his prowess in various ways, and gives him the princess of the sea in
marriage. After many exciting adventures Sadko stands on the shore
surrounded by piles of treasure. Yet these are nothing compared with
the treasures of Novgorod the Great. “Men perceive that I am a rich
merchant of Novgorod; but my city is far richer than I.”
The Church of this center of medieval freedom, was the close ally,
the consort of the free State. The clergy, unlike that of the rest
of Russia, were less Russian orthodox than Novgorodians. The Slavs
of Ilmen were the last of the people obliged to accept Christianity;
but from the twelfth century onward they refused to receive a Greek
or a Kievan archbishop. They must have one of their own freemen. He
was promptly elected by the _vetché_, and installed in the Episcopal
palace, without other investiture. Thereafter he was revered as the
chief dignitary of the republic, a Novgorodian, as a native, while
the prince, being a descendant from Rurik, was a foreigner. In public
documents the name of the archbishop took precedence. “With the
blessing of the Archbishop Moses, Posadnik (chief magistrate) Daniel,”
etc., concludes one of their letters patent. He invariably held with
the republic in its contentions with the prince; and in its wars his
revenues and those of the Church were at its service. An archbishop
of the fourteenth century built for the city a kreml of stone at his
own personal expense. A century later the riches of Saint Sophia
were given as ransom for the prisoners captured by the Lithuanians.
The ecclesiastics took part in secular affairs, nor cared they for
exemption from any civic duties. The laity were equally active in
spiritual work. One of the chief splendors of the city lay in its
magnificent churches and its well-appointed monasteries. The lives of
the saints of the republic are voluminous; the miracles all redound to
her glory. One of them records that the Lord Christ appeared to the
artist who was to paint the interior of the dome of Saint Sophia, and
charged him: “Represent me not with extended but with closed hands, for
in my hand I hold Novgorod; and when my hand is opened, the end of the
city is nigh.”
Not less national was the literature of the Great Republic. The life of
the city, of its princes, boyars, merchants, is given in its monastic
chronicles. The epics recite the exploits of Vasili Buslaévitch, the
boyar who, with his drujina, held the bridge of the Volkhof against
all the muzhiki, the rabble of the city. Many such an iron-hearted
adventurer, marking his trail as he journeyed, knowing neither friend
nor foe, went forth from this brave, happy, proud community into the
trackless wastes of Vologda, Archangel, and Siberia.
During not less than five hundred years the Slav republic, greater in
extent than any other except our own, maintained intact the freedom of
its barbaric founders, the emigrant Slavs who ended their wanderings
by the borders of the lakes. Its conquest by the Mongols is one of the
mournfulest chapters in history. An avenging though inadequate sequel
to it is “The flight of a Tartar Tribe” as recorded by DeQuincey.[B]
* * * * *
“To live is not merely to breath, it is to act; it is to make use of
our organs, senses, faculties, of all those parts of ourselves which
give us the feeling of existence. The man who has lived longest is not
the man who has counted most years, but he who has enjoyed life most.
Such a one was buried a hundred years old, but he was dead from his
birth. He would have gained by dying young; at least he would have
lived till that time.”—_Rousseau._
FOOTNOTES:
[A] In the Baltic, midway between Russia and Sweden.
[B] _Vid._ the essays of that author.
A GLANCE AT THE HISTORY AND LITERATURE OF SCANDINAVIA.
By L. A. SHERMAN, Ph. D.
IV.—THE EDDAS: LATER SWEDISH HISTORY.
We have reserved to the last to speak of the religious books of the
early Norsemen,—the Elder and the Younger Edda.
The Elder Edda, it has been often said, is the Old Testament of the
Norseman’s faith. This is not because of its surpassing age, for the
Younger Edda was compiled perhaps as early. The name was suggested
because, in the first place, it is composed mostly in verse. It also
tells the story of man’s creation, and the limit of his existence on
the earth; it prophesies the final destruction of the universe and the
genesis of a new heaven and a new earth. It is not a religious history
of mankind in early ages; it is rather a biography of the gods, a
register of their exploits and wisdom. In its present form it dates
probably from the middle of the thirteenth century, but no one knows
when its different parts were first composed. It consists of various
distinct treatises, which were never united or considered together,
until they had almost perished from the memory of the race. After the
Scandinavians ceased to be idolaters, the old stories about Thor and
Odin lost their charm, and were at length forgotten; only in the far
off and dreary Iceland they were still told to enliven the winter
evenings, and keep up the memory of life in the old Fatherland of
Scandinavia. Even here they began to drop out of mind, when some quaint
clerk put what he could remember of them together under the name of
Edda (or “great-grandmother”). Some of the chapters are imperfect and
fragmentary, showing they were caught and fixed in writing in the nick
of time. There are many difficulties in the interpretation, and hints
abound that the compiler took liberties with his materials and somewhat
idealized his version. It was a Christian hand which copied out the
legends, and here and there it wrote Christian sentiments and thought.
The oldest and most important chapter of the Elder Edda is the Völuspá,
or Sibyl’s Prophecy. It is addressed to Odin, describing the meeting
of the Æsir (or Northern deities), the origin of the human race, and
the destruction of men and gods at Ragnarök.[C] We will here transcribe
a couple of stanzas as specimens of the form of the old Norse or
Icelandic original, and add a close translation:
STANZAS 66 AND 68.
_Text._ | _Translation._
|
66. Hittask Æsir | 66. The Asas meet
Á Ithavelli | On the wold of Ida
Ok um moldwinur | And of the earth engirdler
Mátkan dæma; | Mightily judge;
Ok minnask war | And call to mind
Á megindóma | Their [bygone] greatness
Ok á Fimbultys | And the ancient runes
Fornar runar. | Of Fimbultyr.
|
68. Munu ósánir | 68. Then shall the acres
Akrarvaxa, | Unsown bear harvest,
Böls mun alls batna, | All ill is amended,
Mun Baldr koma; | Balder is coming;
Búa weir Häthr ok Baldr | Dwell Hader and Balder
Hropts sigtoptir | In Hropt’s blessed dwellings
Vel valtívar. | In friendship the wargods.
Vituth ér enn etha hvat? | Know ye ought yet, or what?
From another chapter of the Elder Edda—that called Hávamál, and the
most interesting after the Völuspá—we we will quote also a specimen.
The whole chapter is made up of such proverbs or reflections, said to
have been indited by Odin himself:
’Tis far out of the way
To an ill friend,
Though he dwell by the roadside;
But to a good friend
Is the path short,
Though he be a great way off.
Thou shalt move on,—
Shalt not be a guest
Always in one place:
The well-beloved becomes odious
If he sit long
In the house of another.
Among the other divisions of the first Edda we will mention the
mystical Vafthruthnismál, or words of Vafthruthnir in reply to Odin,
who has made inquiry about the cosmogony and chronology of Norse
theology; the Grimnismál, or sayings of Grimnir, which describe the
imprisonment and maltreatment which Odin suffered at the hands of King
Geirröd; the Thrymskvitha, or lay of Thrym, who stole Thor’s hammer,
and refused to restore it unless Freyja were given him to wife: by a
device of Thor he is slain and the hammer recovered; the Alvismál,
a learned dialogue between the dwarf Alvis and Odin. Deserving of
separate mention is the famous Vegtams-kvitha, or Vegtam’s lay. Odin
has been troubled with dreams concerning Balder, the helpless god, and
applies to a Nala, or Sibyl, for their interpretation. Finally we will
name the Völundarkvitha, or Song of Wayland. This contains the story of
his toils and adventures at the court of Nidud, a Swedish king.
The Younger Edda is written in prose, and is believed to be the
compilation, for the most part, of Snorre Sturleson. It must then have
been put together about the same time as the Elder Edda, for Snorre
was murdered in the year 1241. The materials of the Younger Edda, as
of the Elder, are legends concerning the earth-life of the gods. It
begins with a sort of preface, which repeats the story of the first
chapters of Genesis, as far as the confusion of tongues. The narrative
then abruptly shifts to Troy, and from Priam to Saturn and Jupiter.
From Memnon, a Trojan prince and son-in-law of Priam, the author
next traces the genealogy of Odin, whom he assigns to the nineteenth
generation after Priam. Odin possessed the gift of knowing the future;
and becoming aware that great renown awaited him in the north regions,
set out to find them, with a large company of followers. They reach
first Saxland, which they stop to subjugate, and over the conquered
lands Odin leaves three sons to bear rule. Then the army of eastern
conquerors begins again to march. They occupy Denmark, then Sweden
and Norway. Sweden was at that time ruled by a king named Gylfe, who
submitted to Odin without battle. From this country Odin selected the
site for a city, which he called Sigtown (city of Victory). With this
account of the origin of the Scandinavian chieftains and deities, the
first part of this Edda closes.
The second portion, or Deception of Gylfe, is full of the most
interesting myths of the Teutonic religion. This Gylfe is the king of
Sweden mentioned in the introduction, who repairs to the court of the
Æsir to find out the secret of their power. He disguises himself and
asks admittance to the hall of the gods. They recognize him, and make
him the victim of ocular illusion. The hall is so high he can scarcely
see the top, and the shingles on the roof are golden shields. Gylfe is
admitted, and engages in conversation with Odin himself, who is called
Har. Gylfe asks all manner of questions about the various deities, the
creation of the world and of man, the steed of Odin, Frey’s famous
ship, the life of the gods in Valhall, and the final destruction of all
things at Ragnarök. Har answers patiently, and in detail, until Gylfe
proceeds to inquire about the new order of things that should spring
up after Ragnarök. Har gives him a short answer, and unceremoniously
closes the dialogue. The illusion of the city and gold-roofed hall
vanishes, and Gylfe finds himself alone on a desolate plain. He returns
to his home, and tells what he has heard and seen. In this way, fables
the author, the race of Northmen became possessed of their knowledge of
divine things.
The other important portions of the Younger Edda are the Discourse of
Brage, the Skaldskaparmál, and the Hattatal. Brage is the northern
Apollo, and never opens his lips except to utter words of wisdom.
His discourse is mythologic and supplemental to the Gylfaginning, or
Delusion of Gylfe. The Skaldskaparmál is also partly narrative, partly
a digest of the rules and principles to be followed in composing verse.
The Hattatal is merely an enumeration of the various meters employed in
Icelandic poetry.[D]
We will now resume with Sweden. It will be remembered that we know much
less of Sweden in early times than of Norway or Denmark. The Swedes did
not join, so far as is known, the viking expeditions which ravaged the
south and west of Europe. They robbed and oppressed the Finns and other
tribes living near them on the north and east, and sent forth the bands
of Varangians which conquered Russia and threatened Constantinople.
Thus they came less in contact with France and Britain, and left no
foreign record of their internal history. We are told, doubtfully,
of various sovereigns who ruled Sweden in the tenth century, and
of one Erik Sejrsöl, who humbled Denmark. This king died in 993,
leaving an infant son Olaf, the “Lap-King.” In boyhood he was brought
under the instruction of an English missionary and baptized into the
Christian faith. Olaf’s reign was a stormy one, partly on account
of the hostility of the Swedes to the Christian religion, partly on
account of a bitter quarrel with Norway. Olaf was at best a very ill
Christian. He broke his solemn word pledged to his subjects, and came
near losing his crown in consequence. After his death the new religion
had a harder struggle than ever, and at times seemed virtually extinct.
For the next hundred years anarchy and idolatry prevailed together.
With the accession of Sverker Carlson, in 1135, both evils ceased,
and Sweden was enrolled among the faithful subjects of Rome. King
Sverker’s religion, however, seems rather an affair of temperament than
of choice. Like the Anglo-Saxon King Ethelwulf, he was incapable of
energetic action. On Christmas eve of the year 1155 he was murdered by
his servants while on the way to mass. Erik the “Saint” succeeded, who
made the Christian religion respected at home as well as feared abroad.
He added Finland to the royal domains, and established an archbishop’s
see at Upsala. Thus Sweden was put fairly on the road to civilization
and prosperity.
The Sverker dynasty continued in power until 1250, then giving way to
the Folkungar line of kings. A century later, under the rule of Magnus
Smek, a revolution occurred which set upon the throne Count Albrecht,
of Mecklenburg, nephew of the deposed Magnus. This did not bring peace
or quiet, and upon the invitation of one of the contending factions,
Margaret, Queen of Denmark and Norway, invaded the country and captured
the Swedish throne. She was succeeded by her nephew, Erik of Pomerania,
who married Philippa, daughter of Henry the Fourth of England. Erik
proved utterly incapable of managing the three kingdoms his aunt
had united, and after a quarter of a century of civil war lost the
allegiance of each of the three. Denmark and Norway chose for their
ruler Erik’s nephew, Christopher of Bavaria, and Sweden was induced
to ratify their choice. Upon his death, in 1448, the Oldenburg line,
in Norway and Denmark, begins with Christian I. This king attempted
to subjugate Sweden, but Karl Knudson, her marshal king, succeeded
in keeping his crown. After his death, Hans, son and successor to
Christian I., won Sweden by the aid of German mercenary troops. Again
Sweden shakes off the Danish yoke, and again is subjugated by Christian
II. At length in 1523 Gustaf I., known commonly in history by the title
of Gustavus Vasa, liberated Sweden forever from foreign domination.
But foreign domination was scarcely worse than the domestic tyranny
of the nobles and the clergy. Gustaf set himself the task of breaking
down this also. In his twenty-seven years of rule he established the
reformed or Lutheran faith, elevated the peasantry, developed the
resources of the country, replenished the national treasury and created
a navy and army of defence.
Thus was established the Vasa line, destined to remain in power until
the time of Napoleon. Gustaf was succeeded by his son Erik, a young
man of promise, who is most easily remembered for having been a suitor
for the hand of the English queen, Elizabeth. He soon fell a victim
of insanity and resigned the crown to his brother John. The latter
king, who attempted to restore Catholicism, proved almost as great a
failure. Sigismund and Charles IX continue the line, when we reach the
famous name of Gustavus Adolphus (Gustaf Adolf II.) This king, the most
accomplished prince of his age, came to the throne in 1611. He had
at once to measure his strength against Denmark, Poland, and Russia,
but found no difficulty in adjusting with each an advantageous peace.
It was a reign like Elizabeth’s in England: there was ability on the
throne, there was wise counsel beside it, and the people loved and
confided in both. As soon as the pressing affairs of his government
were adjusted Gustavus determined to go over to Germany and assist the
Protestants in their struggle with the Catholic league. At the head of
only 15,000 Swedes he assumed the leadership of the Protestant cause,
and won the important battles of Leipsic and Lützen,—the latter at the
cost of his life. The Swedes have never ceased to cherish the memory of
their hero king, who combined the most generous and chivalrous impulses
with a bravery not unworthy of the viking age.
The death of Gustaf II was the first of a succession of calamities to
Sweden. The cause of the German Protestants ceased to prosper, and the
Swedish co-operation was abandoned. The late king had left no heir
except a daughter Christina, whose administration ended in disgrace.
The reign of Charles X followed, 1656-1660, four years of disorder and
unprofitable drain upon the national resources. A regency followed,
for Charles XI was but four years old. After assuming the reins of
government, he suffered various defeats, and lost for Sweden many of
her former conquests. Like the first Gustavus he was the friend of
the lower orders, and by their aid overcame the power of the nobility
and made himself an absolute sovereign. After his death in 1697, his
son, Charles XII, succeeded at the age of fifteen. The rival powers
of Denmark, Poland and Russia, thinking it a favorable opportunity to
crush Sweden, formed a league with this intent. Charles at once proved
himself equal to the occasion by forcing Denmark to conclude peace,
and defeating an army of 50,000 Russians with 8,000 Swedes. Poland was
next attacked and King Augustus driven from his throne. Charles then
made the same mistake of moving upon Moscow in the winter, which broke
the power of Napoleon a century later. Defeated by Peter the Great at
Pultowa, Charles retreated to Bender in the dominions of the Sultan.
Here he was for a time imprisoned, but at length escaping returned to
Sweden in safety. For a time he seemed likely to regain the prestige
he had lost, but the fatal “shot” which pierced his brain at the
siege of Friedrichshall, in 1718, crushed the hopes of Sweden. From a
dictatorial position in the politics of Europe, she had fallen to the
rank of a third-rate power. Though thus the occasion of his country’s
ruin, Charles XII is the idol of every Swede. How fondly the memory of
his age (“Den Karolinska Tiden”) is still cherished in Sweden, we shall
see in our next paper.
PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY.
Teutones (Tútonēs). Ul´filas (u like oo). Al´aric, Theod´oric.
Pyth´eas. _Dönsk tunga_ (Dernsk toong´-a). Siegfred (Seeg´fred).
Norrœnamál (Norrāna maul). Frode (Frŏ´dā). Harald Haarfager (Harald—_a_
as in _father_—Horfager) Reykiavik (Reī=´=kiavik´.) Blodœxe
(Blooderxā). Erik Graafell (Er´ik Grófell). Bielozero (Bē´ĕloz=´=ero).
Iz´borsk. Ruotsalaíset. Bjarne (Byar´nā; first _a_ as in _father_).
Njál (Nyaul). Völuspá (Vérloospaú). Ragnarök (Rágnarérk). Freyja
(Freiya). Upsála (u like oo).
[To be continued.]
FOOTNOTES:
[C] “The Twilight of the Gods,” or final destruction of the universe.
[D] For further information the Elder Edda may be consulted in the
translation of Benjamin Thorpe (London, 1866). The Younger Edda
has been three times translated into English: by Dasent (1842),
by Blackwell (in Mallet’s Northern Antiquities), and by Prof.
Anderson (1879). Snorre Sturleson’s Chronicle of the Kings of Norway
(Heimskringla), of unique interest to the student of old Norse history,
has also been translated by Laing (1844).
PICTURES FROM ENGLISH HISTORY.
By C. E. BISHOP.
V.—THE BATTLE OF PANCAKE CREEK.
“Decisive battles of history” are such because of long trains of events
that lead up to them and explode there. Those events form one of the
most interesting studies of historical philosophy; an understanding
of them is necessary to an intelligent reading of subsequent changes.
One of these culminating points and turning points was the Battle
of Bannockburn, fought June 24, 1314, between the Scotch under King
Robert, “the Bruce,” and the English under the ill-starred King Edward
II.
Edward I had been a great fighter. He fought the Scotch so persistently
that his tomb bears the vain-glorious inscription, “Here lies the
Hammer of the Scots.” He died, worn out, in a Scotch campaign (1307),
enjoining on his son, it is said, the pleasant duty of boiling all
the flesh off his father’s bones and carrying them at the head of the
army until Scotland should be crushed. Then he might celebrate at once
the funeral of Scotland’s freedom and of its “Hammer.” Edward II very
wisely disregarded this barbarous dying request. He at once abandoned
the Scotch war.
Seven years of peace followed, during which Scotland was drilling and
gathering strength under Bruce, while England was torn and weakened by
internal quarrels between the king and his dissolute favorites on one
side, and the lawless and tyrannical barons on the other. By the fall
of 1313 the Scotch had cleared the English garrisons out of all their
castles save Stirling, and that, the key to the borders, they besieged.
“Its danger roused England out of its civil strife to a vast effort for
the recovery of its prey.” The army gathered to this task comprised
thirty thousand horsemen, and seventy thousand English, Welsh, and
Irish footmen, raw, undisciplined, disorderly; while Bruce’s army
numbered only thirty thousand, nearly all on foot, but they were inured
to war and reckless fighters, those wild clansmen.
The little burne (brook) of Bannock (pancake) runs through a swamp near
the rock on which Sterling Castle stands. Bruce chose his position, as
he fought the battle, with a genius for arms which showed him to be the
first soldier of his age. On his right flank was the creek and marsh,
on the left the ledge of rocks and castle, in the rear a wooded hill.
The ground in front was cut up by patches of forest and undergrowth
and swamp-holes, so that no large body of the enemy at once could come
at him. This robbed the English of much of their advantage of numbers.
Other precautions, it will appear, took away also the superiority of
his enemy in the matter of cavalry.
The battle which took place here has been much written and sung about,
but rational explanations of its surprising outcome are hard to find.
We may seek them in the disorganization and disaffection of the English
army and the incapacity of its command; in the contrary circumstances
on the Scotch side; and in four striking reverses which befell the
English. But as these reverses were due to superior generalship and
better fighting on the Scotch side, we may as well put the credit where
it belongs, with Bruce and his compatriots.
The first of these four reverses took place the night before the
general engagement. Edward had sent ahead a detachment of eight hundred
knights to relieve the besieged English in Sterling Castle, and hold
it as a base of operations. To send so weak a force upon so important
a task marked the incapacity of the English generalship at the outset.
But the movement was well executed, for the first Bruce knew the
squadron was on his flank and between him and Sterling. Riding up to
Earl Randolph, his nephew, who had been cautioned against this very
manœuvre, he cried, “Randolph, you are flanked. A rose has fallen from
your chaplet.”
Randolph was an English settler in Scotland and was distrusted by the
Scotch; but he made a brave stand against the English. He formed in the
order of Hastings—a hollow square—the front rank kneeling, the next
stooping, the inside line erect, their spears a perpendicular wall of
bristling steel. Around this square and on these points the English
cavalry circled and broke and were used up. Lord Douglas, though a
personal enemy of Randolph, when he saw him sore beset, chivalrously
asked leave to go to his assistance. “No,” declared Bruce, “I’ll
not break my lines. Let him redeem his own fault.” He did—and a few
defeated horsemen galloped away to King Edward to report the first
English repulse. Bruce’s stern decision not to break his order of
battle, even at the risk of a defeat of Randolph, is the key to his
successful control of the undisciplined Scotch, and to his victory.
Early in the day of the 24th the English host came in sight. Edward
rode out with his body-guard to reconnoitre. The first sight that met
his eyes was an aged priest, bare-footed, walking along the Scotch
lines and all the rough soldiers on their knees.
“See,” said the confident king, “They kneel, they cry for mercy.”
“Yea,” said Sir Ingeltram de Umfraville, “they cry for mercy, but it is
to God, not to you.”
Presently came Bruce riding a little Scotch pony along the lines,
giving his men their last directions and words of cheer. English
chivalry, in the person of Sir Henry de Bohun, thought this an
opportunity for cheap glory. Chivalry, with all its pretense of
fairness, took odds when it could, and de Bohun in full armor, on a
heavy Flanders steed, thundered down on Bruce. Dextrously dodging
Bohun’s spear, Bruce rose in his stirrups and, as his enemy careered
past with a great circle in the air he brought his axe down full on
Bohun’s head. The axe was shattered by the tremendous blow, while
helmet and skull were cleft and the brilliant knight rolled in the
dust. A great shout from the Scotch hailed this feat; a damp silence
among the English hailed this defeat No. 2. “The Englishmen had great
abasing,” says old Barbour. As for Bruce, when his chiefs reproached
him for the risk he had taken, he only looked ruefully at the fragment
of the axe-handle in his hand and muttered, “I have broken my good
axe.”
It is at this moment, just before the battle, that Burns puts into the
mouth of Bruce the most inspiring battle-hymn ever written:
Scots wha hae wi’ Wallace bled,
Scots wham Bruce hae often led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victory.
Now’s the day and now’s the hour;
See the front o’ battle lour.
See approach proud Edward’s power,
Chains and slavery!
Wha will be a traitor knave,
Wha can fill a coward’s grave,
Wha sae base as be a slave,
Let him turn and flee!
Wha for Scotland’s king and law
Freedom’s sword will strongly draw,
Freeman stand or freeman fa’
Let him follow me.
By oppression’s woes and pains,
By your sons in servile chains,
We will drain our dearest veins
But they shall be free!
Lay the proud usurper low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty’s in every blow!
Let us do or die!
In the battle which now began, the wisdom of Bruce’s plans appeared.
His small cavalry force he placed in hiding at the right for flank
operations on the dreaded English archers. To cope with the more
dreaded English men-at-arms he had dug all the solid ground along his
line full of pits, set them full of sharp stakes, and covered all
fairly with boughs and turf. His baggage, horses and camp impediments
were parked behind the hill in his rear; the wagoners and servants
(“Gillies”) there secreted were destined to play an important part in
this singular battle—a part so signal that the hill has ever since been
known as Gillies Hill.
The English attack began, as expected, in the assault of archers. It
made havoc among the Scotch with their bull’s-hide bucklers for their
only protection. “Now we’ll cut their bow-strings!” cried Edward Bruce
to the Scotch horsemen in cover, and forthwith they were hewing and
sabering among the English yeomen, who, having no small arms wherewith
to fight hand to hand, were helpless to resist this attack. They were
stampeded and hurled back a confused mass upon the English army. Defeat
No. 3.
The appearance of Scotch horse in the engagement was a surprise to the
English. To meet it they ordered a charge of their own cavalry. Down
the narrow passages they thundered, a galling fire of Scotch arrows in
their faces.
Rushing, ten thousand horsemen came,
With spears in rest and hearts on flame,
That panted for the shock;
Down, down in headlong overthrow,
Horseman and horse the foremost go,
Wild floundering on the field.
Loud from the mass confused the cry
Of dying warriors swells on high,
And steeds that shriek in agony.
They came like mountain torrent red,
That thunders o’er its rocky bed;
They broke like that same torrent’s wave
When swallowed by a darksome cave,
Billow on billow rushing on
Follows the path the first has gone.[E]
“Some of the horses that stickit were,” says Barbour, “rushed and
reeled right rudely.” The fall of the horse in the pits was complete
with hardly a blow from the Scotch. As yet Bruce’s line had not been
touched; Bruce’s brain more than Scotch brawn had won thus far.
The grand charge of Edward’s body-guard, three thousand steel-clad
knights, the pick of English chivalry, was now ordered to redeem the
day. They charged the line of Scotch spearmen and axmen with great fury
and effect—“Sae that mony fell down all dead; the grass waxed with the
blude all red.”
The Scotch knights, until now held in reserve, were led by Bruce
himself, and a most desperate struggle took place, all the forces left
on both sides being engaged. “And slaughter revelled round.”
Just at the moment when the victory hung trembling in the balance, a
strange apparition turned the English pause into a panic. The Scotch
wagoners and camp-followers, impatient of inactivity, had hastily armed
themselves with such knives, clubs, and rejected weapons as were at
hand, improvised banners of tent cloth and plaids, and came marching
over the hill, fifteen thousand strong. They made a “splurge” and a
racket, in inverse ratio to their real formidableness; but coming
directly after the staggering attack of Bruce’s reserves, they had all
the appearance to the English of large reinforcements.
“When they marked the seeming show
Of fresh, and fierce, and marshaled foe,
The boldest broke away.”
Thus the cooks and hostlers precipitated the English defeat and panic.
Edward would have thrown himself away in a personal effort to turn the
defeat, but Sir Giles de Argentine seized his horse’s bridle and led
him out of the fight. Having despatched him and a few faithful comrades
toward the coast, De Argentine said, “As for me, retreating is not part
of my business;” and plunging into the fight, hopelessly and uselessly,
was slain. The king by hard riding reached Dunbar and escaped by sea to
London.
The retreat was more disastrous to the English than the battle. The
bare-legged, bare-headed, bare-armed Scotch, with their long knives,
drove their enemies in large numbers into the river Forth; and Barbour
says the Bannock creek was so choked up that one might walk dry-shod
from bank to bank on the drowned horses and men. The English loss was
ten thousand; among them twenty-seven nobles, two hundred knights and
seven hundred esquires, while twenty-two nobles and sixty knights were
made prisoners. The pursuit continued for miles, every step marked by
blood and booty. Those old knights went soldiering in great style;
their military establishments were enormous and rich. The English camp
was taken, with great booty in treasure, jewels, rich robes, fine
horses, herds of cattle, droves of sheep and hogs (great eaters, those
old English!), machines for the siege of towns, wagon loads of grain
and portable mills; the train of wagons which carried the treasure
into Scotland was sixty miles long. The king’s tent and treasure
were captured, including the royal signet-ring. One prisoner was a
talented Carmelite friar whom Edward had brought along to celebrate his
anticipated victory in verse; but Bruce compelled him to buy his own
release by writing a poem glorifying the Scotch victory instead.
But a greater spoil than all this was found in the ransom of captive
knights and nobles. While the common soldiers were ruthlessly put
to death, the wealthy were carefully spared and well treated. This
was not done so much from the spirit of chivalry as from a spirit of
speculation; wealthy prisoners were the prize for which many great
battles were fought. An explanation of the large number of prisoners
of this class is found in this fact, and in the additional one that a
heavily-armored knight, if once dismounted, could not run away; if once
thrown to the ground he was about as helpless as a turtle turned on
his back. If a poor Scotchman stumbled over one of these dismounted
ironclads his fortune was made—provided the prisoner or his friends had
one. All to do was to cut the strings of his helmet, set your knife
against his throat, and make a good bargain for taking it away again.
The victory of Bannockburn, besides enriching Scotland, forever secured
her independence. It confirmed the fighting qualities of the Scots, in
pitched battle, before the world. It got them the permanent alliance of
France against England, out of which grew those long double wars which
cost England so dearly, and prevented her finally conquering either
country. Ever England was in the situation of the bear which, when she
attacks the French hunter, finds his Scotch mastiff on her haunches. It
gave Scotchmen a new respect among the English, and it no longer was
said an English yeoman carried twelve Scots under his green jacket; so
that to war on Scotland became less a pastime with English soldiers.
For three hundred years, under the influence of the independence
thus sturdily maintained, Scotch character grew as strong and
self-respecting as that of England, so that the union between the two
countries finally took place as a partnership of equals, rather than
upon the conditions under which the lion and lamb are sometimes said
to lie down together—the lamb inside the lion. A different relation
existed between England and Ireland, with all the consequences of shame
to one and suffering to the other that the world has for centuries seen.
Bannockburn was one of the most decisive battles of the world.
[To be continued.]
FOOTNOTE:
[E] Scott’s “Lord of the Isles.”
SUNDAY READINGS.
SELECTED BY THE REV. J. H. VINCENT, D. D.
[_February 4._]
SOCIAL AND RELIGIOUS LIFE OF THE ISRAELITES FROM SAUL TO CHRIST.
By W. F. COLLIER, LL.D.
During this period the state of _social life_ among the Jewish people
underwent a very great change. An immense flow of wealth into the
country took place. Through intercourse with other countries, many new
habits and fashions were introduced. The people lost not a little of
their early simplicity of character and life. A splendid court had been
set up, and a splendid capital built. Commercial relations had been
established with remote parts of the world. A great stride had been
taken in the direction of luxury and refinement.
There was now a standing army, a large staff of civil officers, and a
vast number of menial servants in the country. Besides the ass, the
horse and the mule were now introduced as beasts of burden; chariots
and splendid equipages were set up; and many persons assumed the style
and bearing of princes. Private dwellings underwent a corresponding
change, and all the luxuries of Egypt and Nineveh became familiar to
the Hebrews.
But was all this for good? It appears as if the nation, or its leaders,
now struck out a new path for themselves, in which God rather followed
than preceded them, giving them, indeed, at first, a large measure of
prosperity, but leaving them more to their own ways and to the fruits
of these ways than before. This, at least, was plainly the case under
Solomon. The vast wealth circulated in his time over the country did
not bring any proportional addition, either to the material comfort, or
to the moral beauty, or to the spiritual riches of the nation. There
can be no doubt that “haste to be rich” brought all the evils and sins
which always flow from it in an age of progress toward worldly show and
magnificence.
It appears from the Proverbs that many new vices were introduced. Many
of the counsels of that book would have been quite inapplicable to
a simple, patriarchal, agricultural people; but they were eminently
adapted to a people surrounded by the snares of wealth and the
temptations of commerce, and very liable to forget or despise the good
old ways and counsels of their fathers. The Proverbs will be read
with far greater interest, if it be borne in mind that this change
had just taken place among the Hebrews, and that, as Solomon had been
instrumental in giving the nation its wealth, so, perhaps, he was led
by the Spirit to write this book, and that of Ecclesiastes, to guard
against the fatal abuse of his own gift.
The practice of soothsaying, or fortune-telling, was common among the
Jews at the beginning of this period. The prevalence of such a practice
indicates a low standard of intellectual attainment. It seems to have
had its headquarters among the Philistines (Isa. ii:6); and very
probably, when Saul drove all who practised it from the land, he did so
more from enmity to the Philistines than from dislike to the practice
itself. It continued, as Saul himself knew, to lurk in the country,
even after all the royal efforts to exterminate it. (I Sam. xxviii:7.)
Probably it never altogether died out. In New Testament times it was
evidently a flourishing trade. (Acts viii:9; xiii:6.) All over the East
it was practised to a large extent, and the Jewish sorcerers had the
reputation of being the most skillful of any. It was the counterfeit
of that wonderful privilege of knowing God’s mind and will, which the
Jew enjoyed through the Urim and Thummim of the high-priest. Those who
would not seek, or could not obtain, the genuine coin, resorted to the
counterfeit.
In _literary and scientific culture_ the nation made a great advance
during this period. In a merely literary point of view, the Psalms
of David and the writings of Solomon possess extraordinary merits;
and we can not doubt that two literary kings, whose reigns embraced
eighty years, or nearly three generations, would exercise a very great
influence, and have their example very largely followed among their
people. David’s talents as a musician, and the extraordinary pains
he took to improve the musical services of the sanctuary, must have
greatly stimulated the cultivation of that delightful art.
What David did for music, Solomon did for natural history. It need
not surprise us that all the uninspired literary compositions of that
period have perished. If Homer flourished (according to the account of
Herodotus) 884 years before Christ, Solomon must have been a century in
his tomb before the “Iliad” was written. And if it be considered what
difficulty there was in preserving the “Iliad,” and how uncertain it
is whether we have it as Homer wrote it, it can not be surprising that
all the Hebrew poems and writings of this period have been lost, except
such as were contained in the inspired canon of Scripture.
There were, also, great _religious_ changes during this period of the
history. Evidently, under Samuel, a great revival of true religion
took place; and the schools of the prophets which he established seem
to have been attended with a marked blessing from heaven. Under David
the change was confirmed. In the first place, the coming Messiah was
more clearly revealed. It was expressly announced to David, as has been
already remarked, that the great Deliverer was to be a member of his
race. David, too, as a type of Christ, conveyed a more full and clear
idea of the person and character of Christ than any typical person that
had gone before him.
It is interesting to inquire how far a religious spirit pervaded the
people at large. The question can not receive a very satisfactory
answer. It is plain that even in David’s time the mass of the people
were not truly godly. The success of Absalom’s movement is a proof
of this. Had there been a large number of really godly persons in the
tribe of Judah, they would not only not have joined the insurrection,
but their influence would have had a great effect in hindering its
success. The real state of matters seems to have been, that both in
good times and in bad there were some persons, more or less numerous,
of earnest piety and spiritual feeling, who worshipped God in spirit,
not only because it was their duty, but also because it was their
delight; while the mass of the people either worshipped idols, or
worshipped God according to the will, example, or command of their
rulers.
But the constant tendency was to idolatry; and the intercourse with
foreign nations which Solomon maintained, as well as his own example,
greatly increased the tendency. Under Solomon, indeed, idolatry struck
its roots so deep, that all the zeal of the reforming kings that
followed him failed to eradicate them. It was not till the seventy
years’ captivity of Babylon that the soil of Palestine was thoroughly
purged of the roots of that noxious weed.
During six hundred years that constituted the kingdom of Israel from
the close of Solomon’s reign to the total captivity, the same spirit of
luxury and taste for display prevailed.
In regard to wealth and property, the moderation and equality of
earlier days were now widely departed from. Isaiah denounces those
who “join house to house, and lay field to field, that they may be
placed alone in the midst of the earth.” Notwithstanding, some men,
like Naboth, stood up bravely for their paternal rights; and even in
Jeremiah’s time, the old practice of redeeming possessions survived.
(xxxii:7.) Many of the people lived in elegant houses “of hewn stone”
(Amos v:11), which they adorned with the greatest care. There were
winter-houses, summer-houses, and houses of ivory. (iii:15.) Jeremiah
describes the houses as “ceiled with cedar and painted with vermilion”
(xxii:14); and Amos speaks of the “beds of ivory” and luxurious
“couches” on which the inmates “stretched themselves.” (vi:4.)
Sumptuous and protracted feasts were given in these houses. Lambs out
of the flock and calves from the stall had now become ordinary fare.
(vi:4.) At feasts, the person was annointed with “chief ointments;”
wine was drunk from bowls; sometimes the drinking was continued from
early morning, to the sound of the harp, the viol, the tabret, and
the pipe. (Isa. v:11, 12.) The dress, especially of the ladies, was
often most luxurious and highly ornamented. Isaiah has given us an
elaborate picture of the ornaments of the fine ladies of Jerusalem.
He foretells a day when “the Lord would take away the bravery of the
ankle-bands, and the caps of net-work, and the crescents; the pendants,
and the bracelets, and the veils; the turbans, and the ankle-chains,
and the girdles, and the smelling-bottles, and the amulets; the
signet-rings, and the nose-jewels; the holiday dresses and the mantles,
and the robes, and the purses; the mirrors, and the tunics, and the
head-dresses, and the large veils.” (Isa. iii:18-23.—_Alexander’s
Translation._)
A plain, unaffected gait would have been far too simple for ladies
carrying such a load of artificial ornament: the neck stretched out,
the eyes rolling wantonly, and a mincing or tripping step completed the
picture, and showed to what a depth of folly woman may sink through
love of finery. Splendid equipages were also an object of ambition.
Chariots were to be seen drawn by horses, camels, or asses, with
elegant caparisons (Isa. xxi:7); the patriarchal mode of riding on an
ass being now confined to the poor.
There are some traces, but not many, of high intellectual culture.
Isaiah speaks of “the counselor, and the cunning artificer, and the
eloquent orator,” as if these were representatives of classes. We
have seen that one of the kings of Judah (Uzziah) was remarkable for
mechanical and engineering skill. Amos refers to “the seven stars and
Orion,” as if the elements of astronomy had been generally familiar to
the people. On the other hand, there are pretty frequent references to
soothsayers and sorcerers, indicating a low intellectual condition. The
prevalence of idolatry could not fail to debase the intellect as well
as corrupt the morals and disorder society.
Very deplorable, for the most part, are the allusions of the prophets
to the abounding immorality. There is scarcely a vice that is not
repeatedly denounced and wept over. The oppression of the poor was
one of the most flagrant. Amos declares that the righteous were sold
for silver, and the poor for a pair of shoes. From Hosea it appears
that wives were bought and sold. The princes and rulers were specially
blamed for their covetousness, their venality, their oppressions,
their murders. (Isa. i:23; x:1. Hosea ix:15.) Impurity and sensuality
flourished under the shade of idolatry. In large towns there was a
class that pandered to the vices of the licentious. (Amos vii:17.)
Robbery, lies, deceitful balances, were found everywhere. Even genuine
grief, under affliction and bereavement, had become rare and difficult;
and persons “skillful of lamentation” had to be hired to weep for the
dead!
The revivals under the pious kings of Judah, as far as the masses were
concerned, were rather galvanic impulses than kindlings of spiritual
life. Yet it can not be doubted that during these movements many hearts
were truly turned to God. The new proofs that were daily occurring of
God’s dreadful abhorrence of sin, would lead many to cry more earnestly
for deliverance from its punishment and its power.
In the disorganized and divided state into which the kingdom fell,
rendering it difficult and even impossible for the annual festivals
to be observed, the writings of the prophets, as well as the earlier
portions of the written word, would contribute greatly to the
nourishment of true piety. The 119th Psalm, with all its praises of
the word and statutes of the Lord, is a memorable proof of the ardor
with which the godly were now drinking from these wells of salvation.
Increased study of the word would lead to enlarged knowledge of the
Messiah, though even the prophets themselves had to “search what, or
what manner of time the Spirit of Christ which was in them did signify,
when it testified beforehand the sufferings of Christ and the glory
that, should follow.” One great result of the training of this period
was, to carry forward the minds of the faithful beyond the present to
the future. In the immediate foreground of prophecy all was dark and
gloomy, and hope could find no rest but in the distant future. The
shades of a dark night were gathering; its long weary hours had to pass
before the day should break and the shadows flee away.
[_February 11._]
CHRIST AND THE APOSTLES.
The great central event in all history is the death of our Lord and
Savior Jesus Christ. The centuries circle round the cross. Hundreds of
stately figures—some in dazzling lustre, some in deepest gloom—crowd
upon our gaze, as the story of the world unrolls before us; but
infinitely nobler than the grandest of these is the pale form of Jesus,
hanging on the rough and reddened wood at Calvary—dead, but victorious
even in dying—stronger in that marble sleep than the mightiest of the
world’s living actors, or than all the marshalled hosts of sin and
death. Not the greatest sight only, but the strangest ever seen; for
there, at the foot of the cross, lie Death, slain with his own dart,
and Hell vanquished at his very gate.
All that have ever lived—all living now—all who shall come after us,
till time shall be no more, must feel the power of the cross. To those
who look upon their dying Lord with loving trust, it brings life and
joy, but death and woe to all who proudly reject that great salvation,
or pass it unheeding by.
The details of that stupendous history—his lowly, yet royal birth—his
pure, stainless life—his path of mystery and miracle—his wondrous
works, and still more wondrous words—his agony—his cross—his glorious
resurrection and ascension—all form a theme too sacred to be placed
here with a record of mere common time, or blended with the dark, sad
tale of human follies and crimes. Rather let us read it as they tell it
who were themselves “eye-witnesses of his majesty”—who traced the very
footsteps, and heard the very voice, and beheld the very living face of
incarnate love. And remember, as you read, that history is false to her
noblest trust if she fails to teach that it is the power of the cross
of Christ which alone preserves the world from hopeless corruption, and
redeems from utter vanity the whole life of man on earth.
Wildly, and blindly, and very far, have the nations often drifted from
the right course—there seemed to be no star in heaven, and no lamp on
earth; but through every change an unseen omnipotent hand was guiding
all things for the best: soul after soul was drawn by love’s mighty
attraction to the cross; light arose out of darkness; a new life
breathed over the world; and the wilderness, where Satan seemed alone
to dwell, blossomed anew into the garden of God.[F]
* * * * *
After Christ—the apostles. “On the fifteenth day after his death,
beginning in Jerusalem, the very furnace of persecution, they first
set up their banner in the midst of those who had been first in the
crucifixion of Jesus, and were all elate with the triumphs of that
tragedy. But what ensued? _Three thousand souls_ were that day added
to the infant Church. In a few days the number was increased to _five
thousand_, and in the space of about a year and a half, though the
gospel was preached only in Jerusalem and its vicinity, ‘multitudes
both of men and women,’ and ‘a great company of the priests, were
obedient to the faith.’ Now, the converts being driven, by a fierce
persecution, from Jerusalem, ‘went everywhere preaching the Word;’ and
in less than three years churches were gathered ‘throughout all Judea,
Galilee, and Samaria, and were multiplied.’ About two years after this,
or seven from the beginning of the work, the gospel was first preached
to the Gentiles; and such was the success, that before thirty years had
elapsed from the death of Christ, it spread throughout Judea, Galilee,
and Samaria; through almost all the numerous districts of the lesser
Asia; through Greece and the islands of the Ægean Sea, the seacoast
of Africa, and even into Italy and Rome. The number of converts in
the several cities respectively, is described by the expressions, ‘_a
great number_,’ ‘_great multitudes_,’ ‘_much people_.’ Jerusalem, the
chief seat of Jewish rancor, continued the metropolis of the gospel,
having in it _many tens of thousands of believers_. These accounts are
taken from the book of the Acts of the Apostles; but as this book is
almost confined to the labors of Paul and his immediate companions,
saying very little of the other apostles, it is very certain that the
view we have given of the propagation of the gospel, during the first
thirty years, is very incomplete. In the thirtieth year after the
beginning of the work, the terrible persecution under Nero kindled its
fires; then Christians had become so numerous at Rome, that, by the
testimony of Tacitus, ‘_a great multitude_’ were seized. In forty
years more, as we are told in a celebrated letter from Pliny, the Roman
governor of Pontus and Bythinia, Christianity had long subsisted in
these provinces, though so remote from Judea. ‘Many of all ages, and
of every rank, of both sexes likewise,’ were accused to Pliny of being
Christians. What he calls ‘the contagion of this superstition’ (thus
forcibly describing the irresistible and rapid spread of Christianity),
had ‘seized not cities only, but the less towns also, and the open
country,’ so that the heathen temples ‘were almost forsaken,’ few
victims were purchased for sacrifice, and ‘a long intermission of the
sacred solemnities had taken place.’ Justin Martyr, who wrote about
thirty years after Pliny, and one hundred after the gospel was first
preached to the Gentiles, thus describes the extent of Christianity
in his time: ‘There is not a nation, either Greek or barbarian, or of
any other name, even of those who wander in tribes and live in tents,
among whom prayers and thanksgivings are not offered to the Father and
Creator of the Universe by the name of the crucified Jesus.’ Clemens
Alexandrinus, a few years after, thus writes: ‘The philosophers were
confined to Greece, and to their particular retainers; but the doctrine
of the Master of Christianity did not remain in Judea, but is spread
throughout the whole world, in every nation, and village, and city,
converting both whole houses and separate individuals, having already
brought over to the truth not a few of the philosophers themselves. If
the Greek philosophy be prohibited, it immediately vanishes; whereas,
from the first preaching of our doctrine, kings and tyrants, governors
and presidents, with their whole train and with the populace on their
side, have endeavored, with their whole might, to exterminate it;
yet doth it flourish more and more.’... In connection with the moral
power and vast extent of this work, it should be considered, that
among those who were brought to the obedience of Christ were men of
all classes, from the most obscure and ignorant to the most elevated
and learned. In the New Testament we read of an eminent counselor,
and of a chief ruler, and of a great company of priests, and of two
centurions of the Roman army, and of a proconsul of Cyprus, and of a
member of the Areopagus at Athens, and even of certain of the household
of the Emperor Nero, as having been converted to the faith. Many of
the converts were highly esteemed for talents and attainments. Such
was Justin Martyr, who, while a heathen, was conversant with all the
schools of philosophy. Such was Pantænus, who, before his conversion
was a philosopher of the school of the Stoics, and whose instructions
in human learning at Alexandria, after he became a Christian, were
much frequented by students of various characters. Such also was
Origen, whose reputation for learning was so great that not only
Christians, but philosophers, flocked to his lectures upon mathematics
and philosophy, as well as on the Scriptures. Even the noted Porphyry
did not refrain from a high eulogium upon the learning of Origen.
It may help to convey some notion of the character and quality of
many early Christians—of their learning and their labors—to notice
the Christian _writers_ who flourished in these ages. Saint Jerome’s
catalogue contains one hundred and twenty writers previous to the year
360 from the death of Christ. The catalogue is thus introduced: ‘Let
those who say the Church has had no philosophers, nor eloquent and
learned men, observe who and what they were who founded, established,
and adorned it.’ Pliny, in his celebrated letter to Trajan, written
about sixty-three years after the gospel began to be preached to the
Gentiles, expressly states that in the provinces of Pontus and Bythinia
many of all ranks were accused to him of the crime of being Christians.
We have now prepared the several facts that constitute the materials
of our argument. Here is an unquestionable historical event: the rapid
and extensive spread of Christianity over the whole Roman empire in
less than seventy years from the outset of its preaching. Has anything
else of a like kind been known in the world? Did the learning and
popularity of the ancient philosophers, powerfully aided by the favor
of the great and the peculiar character of the age, accomplish anything
in the least resembling the success of the apostles? It is a notorious
fact that only one of them ‘ever dared to attack the base religion
of the nation, and substitute better representations of God in its
stead, although its absurdity was apparent to many of them. An attempt
of this kind having cost the bold Socrates his life, no others had
resolution enough to offer such a sacrifice for the general good. To
excuse their timidity in this respect, and give it the appearance of
profound wisdom, they called to their aid the general principle that
it is imprudent and injurious to let people see the whole truth at
once; that it is not only necessary to spare sacred prejudices, but, in
particular circumstances, an act of benevolence to deceive the great
mass of the people. This was the unanimous opinion of almost all the
ancient philosophical schools.’ No further proof is needed that such
men were incapable of effecting anything approximating to the great
moral revolution produced in the world by the power of the gospel.
How different the apostles! boldly attacking all vice, superstition,
and error, at all hazards, in all places, not counting their lives
dear unto them so that they might ‘testify the gospel of the grace
of God.’ But where else shall we turn for a parallel to the work we
have described? What efforts, independently of the gospel, were ever
successful in the moral regeneration of whole communities of the
superstitious and licentious?” (McIlvaine’s Evid., Lect. IX.) This
excellent writer adds, in a note: “The early advocates of Christianity,
in controversy with the heathen of Greece and Rome, were accustomed
to dwell with great stress upon the argument from its propagation.
Chrysostom, of the fourth century, writes: ‘The apostles of Christ
were twelve; and they gained the whole world.’ ‘Zeno, Plato, Socrates,
and many others, endeavored to introduce a new course of life, but
in vain; whereas Jesus Christ not only taught, but settled, a new
polity, or way of living, all over the world.’ ‘The doctrines and
writings of fishermen, who were beaten and driven from society, and
always lived in the midst of dangers, have been readily embraced by
learned and unlearned, bondmen and free, kings and soldiers, Greeks and
barbarians.’ ‘Though kings and tyrants and people strove to extinguish
the spark of faith, such a flame of true religion arose as filled the
whole world. If you go to India and Scythia, and the utmost ends of the
earth, you will everywhere find the doctrine of Christ enlightening
the souls of men.’ Augustine, of the same century, speaking of the
heathen philosophers, says: ‘If they were to live again, and should see
the churches crowded, the temples forsaken, and men called from the
love of temporal, fleeting things, to the hope of eternal life and the
possession of spiritual and heavenly blessings, and readily embracing
them, provided they were really such as they are said to have been,
perhaps they would say, ”These are things which we did not dare to say
to the people; we rather gave way to their custom than endeavored to
draw them over to our best thoughts and apprehensions.“’”
“After the death of Jesus Christ, twelve poor fishermen and mechanics
undertook to teach and convert the world. Their success was prodigious.
All the Christians rushed to martyrdom, all the people to baptism: the
history of these early times was a continual prodigy.”—_Rousseau._
Now what explanation can be given of this impressive fact,—the rapid
conquest of Christianity over ancient religions, priests, magistrates,
and all the passions and prejudices of the people? There is but one
explanation: the spirit of God influenced the hearts which he had made
to embrace his truth. To establish Christianity on the earth, he was
pleased to exert a power which, to the same extent, future ages have
not witnessed. Christianity in her strength, with so many earthly
advantages in her favor, accomplishes far less than Christianity in her
infancy, with every worldly influence against her. “There is reason
to think that there were more Jews converted by the apostles in one
day, than have since been won over in the last thousand years.” (Jacob
Bryant, 1792.) Compare the results of modern missionary efforts (which,
indeed, have accomplished enough to stimulate to greater exertions)
with the fruits of the preaching of the Apostle to the Gentiles! When
more energy, more prayer, and greater faith shall be devoted to the
conversion of the world—both Jews and Gentiles—we may confidently look
to the Lord of the harvest for more abundant fruit.[G]
[_February 18._]
THE BIBLE AND OTHER RELIGIOUS BOOKS.
By REV. GEO. F. PENTECOST, D. D.
The most casual reader of the Bible, if he have any serious
thoughtfulness of mind, must remark its unique and extraordinary
character, differing as it does in its structure and matter, its spirit
and style, from all other books. Side by side, the best and most
celebrated of them, its incomparable superiority is almost instantly
recognized. Here and there there have been found passages from other
books that have been thought to compare favorably with some of the
sublime teachings of the Bible. But it has been remarked that even when
the precepts and moral teachings of both early and later ancients are
found in the Bible, especially in the teachings of Jesus, they “receive
a different setting, and a more heavenly light is in them. A diamond
in a dark or dimly lighted room is not the same thing as a diamond
in the track of a sunbeam.”[H] The simplicity and naturalness of the
Bible are most striking. Where else can be found such graphic pictures
of paternal and domestic life? The straightforward delineation of its
most conspicuous characters; its record of the sins of God’s people
with the same impartial pen as is used for the setting forth of their
virtues; its lofty moral tone; its sublimity of thought; as well as
its superhuman authority, all bespeak its unique character. For like
the Master, of whom it is the constant and consistent witness, its
words are with authority. It never speculates or halts in its teaching,
but drives straight to the mark in its ever recurring “Thus saith the
Lord,” in the Old Testament, and in the “Verily, verily, I say unto
you” of the Master.
I met a young man some months ago in the inquiry-room in Hartford,
and I said to him, as to others whom I met there nightly, “Well, my
young friend, are you a Christian?” He replied, “I am not; but I am an
inquirer after truth.” “What is your trouble?” I asked. “Why,” said he,
“I do not know _which_ Bible to believe, or whether they are all alike
to be believed, each one for what it is worth.” “What do you mean?” I
replied. “I do not understand you; there is but _one_ Bible.” “Oh, yes,
there are many Bibles. There are the Vedas and the Zend-Avesta and the
Koran, but I do not count much upon the Koran; the others, however, are
very ancient books, and contain the religion of the larger part of the
inhabitants of the earth.” I found he had been reading Mr. Max Müller’s
studies in comparative religions, and was much taken up with the idea
that the Bible, especially the Old Testament scriptures, was only a
Jewish version of the “more ancient” religions of Aryan races. I was
at first disposed to ignore his difficulties and pass him by, but on
second thought I felt it to be my duty to try and meet them. And since
then I have found a great many persons who, while they are in no sense
students or scholars, have read some book or magazine article by which
they have been innoculated with the thought that the Bible is only one
of many equally ancient and equally trustworthy religious books. And so
it may be well just here to have our attention called to the difference
between the Bible and these two of the more famous books. The Vedas
are a very ancient collection of sacred hymns addressed to the fancied
gods of nature, and make no pretension to be in any sense a revelation.
They are the outpourings of the natural religious sentiment. The
Zend-Avesta is an ancient _speculation_ into the origin of things. It
does not pretend to be a _revelation_ of the truth, but only a human
effort to account for and explain things that are seen. But the Bible
differs from both in a most marked manner. The Bible is the _revelation
of God and the history_ of creation, the origin of things and of man,
showing God to be the creator and author of all, and our relation, not
to nature, but to him. Now the difference between a speculation and
a revelation is this: One is an effort of the human mind to account
for things seen, and so make discovery of the things that are not
seen; an effort to leap from the earth outward and upward into the
presence and mystery of the unseen and eternal. The other is a positive
_statement of the truth_ out and downward from God to man. We notice
that the Bible, when speaking of God, never gives an _opinion_, never
speculates. It always, in simple and majestic measure declares, as in
the opening sentence of the Bible, “In the beginning God created the
heavens and the earth.” That is so utterly different, both in matter
and manner, from any sentence ever framed by philosopher or religious
speculator, that it almost goes without saying that these could not
have been the words of man, they are the words of God spoken by man as
he was moved of God to speak, in order that man might have the _truth_,
and have it _at once_ and simply, in a single breath.
The majestic sweep of the first chapter of Genesis is so great, packing
away in a small compass the entire account of the creation of the world
and all things therein, that on its face it bears the stamp of God
rather than man. Think, if you can, of any human philosopher dashing
off with a few bold strokes of his pen such an account of creation.
If you want to read the finest specimen of human speculation and
argumentation on record, turn to the divinely preserved debate between
Job and his three friends recorded in the Book of Job, II, xi to
xxxii. How the battle between Job and his three friends rages through
those thirty chapters, until, weary with the conflict, they give over
their arguments, drawn from observation, tradition and law. Nothing
was settled, until, exhausted, they all sat face to face defiant and
unconvinced each by the other. Then it was that Elihu (xxxii: 7),
moved by inspiration, set the _truth_ before them all. The result was
that they were dumb (15), for they had but “darkened counsel by words
without knowledge” (xxxviii:2); and Job was humbled before God, saying,
“Behold I am vile, what shall I say unto thee? I will lay my hand
upon my mouth. Once have I spoken; but I will not answer; yea, twice;
but I will proceed no further” (xl:4, 5). This book is a striking and
remarkable illustration of the difference between speculation and
revelation. And as it is supposed that the Book of Job is the most
ancient book in the Bible, if not in the world, this fact alone would
go far to clear up the perplexity that exists in the minds of some
as to their comparative worth and the true relation existing between
ancient writings and the Bible.
FOOTNOTES:
[F] Dr. W. F. Collier.
[G] Dr. S. A. Allibone. “Union Bible Companion,” American Sunday-school
Union, Philadelphia.
[H] Newman Smythe.
[_February 25._]
THE BIBLE AND SCIENCE.
By REV. GEORGE F. PENTECOST, D. D.
Many, especially among the younger and partly educated portions of
every community, are troubled with what they term the scientific
difficulties of the Bible. We can only hint at this point. Because
the Bible is not a speculation as to the origin of things, but an
authoritative statement of the truth from God to man, it does not
follow that its revealed truth is unphilosophical. And so, because the
Bible does not contain a scientific account of creation, and is not
written in the terms of the modern scientists it does not follow that
the Bible is scientifically inaccurate in its statements. It must be
borne in mind that the Bible was written ages before the birth of the
modern sciences. And had it been written in scientific language it
would have been to the people then living, and even to the great mass
of people now living, an utterly unintelligible book—as most scientific
books are unintelligible except to the educated few.
There can be no greater mistake than to suppose, for an instant, that
any well ascertained fact of science has yet been shown to be in
conflict with the Scriptural account of creation. We are aware that the
assertion to this effect is often made; but such assertions have never
been proved. Indeed, it is becoming more evident every day that science
and revelation are drawing nearer together; that is, drawing nearer,
in her domain to the truth as revealed in the Word of God. But were
this not so, and were it shown that there was a real and thoroughly
demonstrated error in the Bible account of creation, so that we must
needs honestly give up Moses and the Bible, to whom should we go for
the truth? We might adapt the words of Joshua and say (xiv: 15), “And
if it seem evil unto you to believe the Bible, choose ye this day whom
ye will believe, whether the pantheistic or materialistic philosophers
who speculated before the rise of modern science, or the atheistic,
theistic, or agnostic scientists;” for there be some who say science
teaches there is no God, and some who say there must be God, and others
who say we can not know if there be a God. Certainly science is at
present on a wide sea of discovery in many boats, guided, each boat, by
the _theory_ of its particular occupant. Two things are certain: (1)
Neither philosophy nor science has succeeded thus far in impeaching
the accuracy of the Bible statement; (2) they have as yet reached no
common ground of agreement among themselves. So that the Christian need
not, as yet, (and I am sure he never will) be in any fear from the
assaults of the students of science. It is indeed no new experience for
the Bible to meet the shock of skepticism. For centuries it has been
the object of attack, always fierce and relentless, and for centuries
it has endured and beaten back its assailants. As a granite rock in
the sea meets and hurls back into the ocean the fierce waves that roll
in upon it, so the Bible has met and beaten back by the power of its
immovable and eternal truth all its assailants. Like a rock in the sea
rooted in a great submarine but unseen formation, it has sometimes
seemed to be overwhelmed by the surging fury of the waves, but it has
ever emerged unshaken and triumphant; the only effect has been to sweep
away some human theological structure or false system of interpretation
built upon it, but not growing out of it.
In this connection it is well to bear in mind that skeptical scientists
have of late become far less haughty in their criticisms of the Bible,
and far more humble in their estimate of their own knowledge (as it
becomes every student, whether of science or theology, to be); for says
an eminent scientific writer on the rights and duties of science: “It
becomes science to confess with much humility how far it falls short of
the full comprehension of nature, and to abstain conscientiously from
_premature_ conclusions. The rapid progress of discovery in recent
times only makes more plain to us the fact that the extension of our
knowledge _implies the extension of our ignorance_, that everywhere the
progress of our knowledge leads us to unsolvable mysteries. It would be
easy to furnish illustrations from every branch of science; but geology
and biology are very fertile in them.” It has seemed due to many honest
but uninformed minds, especially among the young, to say so much by
way of recognition of their new-found difficulties, and also by way of
indicating the outline of answer.
The Bible is not a scientific, but a _religious book_, intended not to
inform the scientific and philosophic understanding, but to instruct
the religious intelligence of man in those things that make for the
life that now is, and that which is to come (I Tim., iv:8). What a
blessed fact it is that we thirsty mortals can drink a glass of pure
water and quench our burning thirst without having to know the chemical
analysis of water, or how it was originally created. We are thirsty
beings, and if our thirst is not slaked we shall die. Meantime we find
water is provided; it is offered to us, and we are told it will slake
our thirst, that it was provided in nature for that very purpose, and
without stopping to have it analyzed, we drink it and live. We thus
experimentally prove it to be water, and that all that was claimed
for it is true. We likewise are religious beings, and if we do not
find truth, and love, and happiness, and regeneration, and eternal
life, and resurrection, we shall die and perish. God’s word is brought
to us; it contains truths, or at least statements and promises that
stand over against these spiritual hungerings and thirstings just as
food and drink stand over against the hunger and thirst of the body.
We take hold by faith of these promises, and the hunger and thirst of
our souls are satisfied. We know the truth of the Bible, therefore,
not by metaphysical or intellectual demonstration, but by experimental
proof, as real in the sphere of our religious nature as scientific
demonstration is real in the realm of matter. Two and two make four,
that is mathematics; hydrogen and oxygen in certain proportions
make water, that is science; Christ and him crucified is the power
and wisdom of God for salvation, that is revelation. But how do you
know? Put two and two together, and you have four; count and see. Put
hydrogen and oxygen together, and you have water; taste and prove.
Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved. Believe and
thou shalt know. The last is as clear a demonstration as the others.
As a practical necessity we do not have to know the mysteries involved
in our own being, and in all the provisions of nature made for our
well-being on the earth. It is well to understand the chemistry of food
and drink; but it would not only be unwise but might be fatal for us to
postpone eating and drinking until we had mastered the chemistry. And
so again we may derive great satisfaction and benefit in discovering a
philosophical and scientific adjustment of revelation; but we would be
consummately foolish if we refused to believe—and thus practically to
demonstrate, by believing—the truth of God’s word, until we had found
the philosophical and scientific adjustment of it.
Our Lord said when he was in the world, “I thank thee, O Father, Lord
of heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these things from the wise
and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes” (Matt. xi:25). God does
not reveal himself and his truth to the wisdom of the philosopher or
to the prudence of the scientist, but he is easily found by child-like
faith. “For after that, in the wisdom of God the world by wisdom knew
not God, it pleased God, by the foolishness of preaching, to save them
that believe. For the Jews (the scientists) require a sign, and the
Greeks (the philosophers) seek after wisdom; but we preach Christ and
him crucified, unto the Jews a stumbling-block, and unto the Greeks
foolishness; but unto them which are called (believers), both Jews
and Greeks, Christ the power of God, and the wisdom of God.... Not in
enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit
and of power: that your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men,
but in the power of God” (I Cor., i:21-24; ii:4, 5, _et seq._). While
philosophers and scientists have been disputing and treading over and
over again the dreary paths of pantheism and materialism, trying to put
God in a crucible or under a microscope, millions of souls in the ages
past, and thousands in the daily present, have been and are finding
God and Christ and salvation, to the joy and rejoicing of their souls;
living in the power of an endless life even here; some meeting death
triumphantly even at the stake, and others peacefully passing into the
presence of him whom, having not seen on earth, they have yet known by
faith and the power of his presence in them.
The engineers who directed the work of the Hoosac Tunnel started two
gangs of men from opposite sides of the mountain. So accurate was
their survey that when they met midway in the mountain, the walls of
the excavations approaching from the different starting points joined
within less than an inch. The practical working of the bore proved the
scientific accuracy of the survey. Man, starting from the side of his
human spiritual need reaching out and upward toward God, is met by the
revelation in Christ coming out and downward from God, a revelation
which exactly fits and covers his need. This perfect match between the
human need and the heavenly supply is the perfect proof of the Divine
origin of the Bible. Just as color is intuitive to sight, harmony to
the musical sense, beauty to the sense of the beautiful, so is God’s
word intuitive to the spiritual consciousness. Coleridge was wont to
say: “I know the Bible is true because it finds me.”
[_End of Required Reading for February._]
GRACE.
By B. W.
There is grace in the leaves of the unfolding rose,
In the calm of the floating swan,
In the bend of a river that swiftly flows,
And the bridge of a single span.
There is grace in the sweep of a midnight sky,
In the bounds of a wild gazelle,
In the measures of music rolling by,
And the tale which the poets tell.
There is grace in the round of that baby’s arm;
In the form that is bending to kiss;
There is grace in all ways that quietly charm
And that silently waken bliss.
But the grace which most deeply enamors my heart
Is the bearing of Jesus to me;
—How quietly he with all riches could part,
A man and a Savior to be.
In him is more fulness of all I call grace,
Than the eye or the heart e’er possessed.
His knowledge is heaven, wherever the place;
His beauty, my quietest rest.
WHAT GENIUS IS.
By JAMES KERR. M. A.
We will now consider what genius is, and, more particularly, whether it
is an inborn or an acquired power.
On this much debated question there are, so to speak, two schools of
thought, diametrically opposed to one another, and each pushing its
views to an extreme, as if there were no middle way in which the truth
may be found.
On the one hand, genius is held to be a kind of inspiration, which
accomplishes its object without training or effort. No culture is
needed; no special education whatever. Shakspere warbled “his native
wood-notes wild” spontaneously. The songs of Burns are the outpourings
of untaught genius; and no culture or education could have improved
them in the slightest degree. They are like the song of the lark, free
and spontaneous. But all this, we know, is an ideal dream. Shakspere,
besides reading the volume of human nature which lay open before him,
and which he made all his own, read many books, and took much pains
with his writings. And as for Burns, he received a training of no
ordinary kind. To say nothing of the volume of human nature spread out
before him, from his youth upward, and which, like Shakspere, he read
with penetrating glance, he perused with critical care the literary
compositions of others, by which his mind was disciplined and his taste
refined.
How far the greatest writers are from being perfect in themselves, and
how much they are indebted to other aids, let one say who is entitled
to speak with authority on such a subject. The great German writer
Goethe thus speaks: “How little are we by ourselves, and how little
can we call our own! We must all accept and learn from those that went
before us, and from those that live with us. Even the greatest genius
would make but little way if he were to create and construct everything
out of his own mind. The world influences us at each step. The artist
who merely walks through a room and casts a glance at the pictures,
goes away a wiser man, and has learnt something from others. My works
spring not from my own wisdom alone, but from hundreds of things and
persons that gave the matter for them. There were fools and sages,
long-headed men and narrow-minded men, children, and young and old men
and women, that told me how they felt and what they thought. I had
but to hold out my hands and reap a harvest which others had sown for
me.... Many a time I am told that such and such an artist owes all to
himself. Sometimes I put up with it; but sometimes, too, I tell them
that he has little reason to be proud of his master.”
But though the slightest reflection suffices to show that there can be
no inborn genius which accomplishes its ends in full perfection without
education or training of any kind, there will still remain among most
of us a vague belief to the contrary. It is more congenial to the
popular taste to imagine that genius is an immediate gift from heaven,
owing all to its divine source, than that it requires in any degree to
be aided and supplemented by less sublime means.
On the other hand, many contend that genius is wholly an acquired
power, using such arguments as the following: It is constantly found
that the habit of taking pains ever accompanies what we call genius.
In actual fact the two are ever found united. Where the one is present
the other is present also. Where the one is absent the other also is
absent. May not the one be the cause of the other? Then look at the
effect of education in improving our intellectual powers. Look at the
effect of education and constant practice in making the mind alert,
and capable of doing well whatever it does often! Nor must it be
forgotten that it is not one part only of man’s education that is to be
considered, but every part. Everything that happens to us, everything
that affects us, from the first dawn of our existence, is part of
our education. When the Queen and Prince Albert were taking counsel
together about the education of their children, a sagacious friend whom
they consulted, to their surprise insisted strongly on this point, that
a child’s education begins “the first day of his life.” Impressions are
made on the infant mind going farther back than we can trace them. All
these impressions, all the influences that surround us, from our first
entrance into life, are a part of our education.
All this may be true; but there is perhaps some danger of our
attributing too much importance to education. There are natural
differences of intellectual power among men altogether apart from the
education they receive. Some minds are strong by nature and in their
very organization, while others are uncommonly weak.
Some are naturally so stupid and weak in the head that nothing can be
made of them, let their education be continued ever so long. One day,
when calling at the Bank of Scotland in Edinburgh, I stood beside a
man, who was depositing some money, whose intellect was of this low
type. The teller asked him if he wished to lift the interest of the
money lying to his credit for the past year. He just answered, “Let it
lie.” Then the teller handed him a paper to sign. He said, “I canna
do’t.” Feeling interested in the man, I advised him to go to a night
school, at least to learn to sign his name. He replied, “I hae been
at it four years, and I canna do’t.” Of course, of such a man nothing
could be made. No amount of education could ever make him a genius, or
even raise him above mediocrity in any branch of learning.
But if we take minds of a higher order, is it not possible that
education acting upon them may be attended with happier results, and
may ultimately produce that beautiful, that rich and rare type of mind
which we call genius? Such was the opinion of Dr. Johnson. In his
“Life of Cowley,” and with reference to the boyhood of the poet, Dr.
Johnson says: “In the window of his mother’s apartment lay Spenser’s
‘Fairy Queen,’ in which he very early took delight to read, till, by
feeling the charms of verse, he became, as he relates, irrecoverably a
poet. Such are the accidents which, sometimes remembered, and perhaps
sometimes forgotten, produce that particular designation of mind, and
propensity for some certain science or employment, which is commonly
called genius. The true genius is a mind of large general powers
accidentally determined to some particular direction.”
Nor was this a mere passing thought with the great moralist; it was
his confirmed belief. More than once we find the same idea repeated in
his conversations. Thus, on one occasion, he is reported to have said:
“No, sir, people are not born with a particular genius for particular
employments or studies, for it would be like saying that a man could
see a great way east, but could not west. It is good sense applied with
diligence to what was at first a mere accident, and which by great
application grew to be called by the generality of mankind a particular
genius.”
If Dr. Johnson’s view is correct, we ought surely to meet with far more
men of genius in the world than we do! There is no want of such as
possess “large general powers,” and yet men of genius are rare. They
are like angel’s visits, few and far between.
Dr. Johnson’s argument has been repeated in every variety of form. One
says genius is untiring patience. Another says it is a great capacity
for taking trouble. Another says it is simply hard work. But again we
may ask, If genius is what such writers represent it to be, why are not
men of genius more frequently met with?
Nor can it be said their lot forbids or that opportunities are
wanting. What with the multiplication of books, and the general
extension of education among all classes, knowledge now unrolls her
“ample page” to every eye, and yet our embryo Miltons remain mute and
inglorious, and the fairest flowers of genius, with rare exceptions,
are still born to blush unseen, and waste their sweetness on the desert
air.
Such being the case, may we not reasonably suppose that something more
is needed for the production of genius than “large general powers,
accidentally determined to some particular direction?”
In one sense, indeed, Dr. Johnson’s views may be not far from the
truth. If by the word genius we mean transcendent genius, such as
is found in our Shaksperes and Miltons, his definition can not be
considered as otherwise than defective. But we do not always confine
the word to this strict meaning. In a looser sense there are various
types of genius. One star differeth from another in glory. If only
a few occupy the higher places, and reach, so to speak, the topmost
round of the ladder, a vastly greater number—a multitude which no man
can number—may occupy lower places, and cluster on the lower rounds,
sighing in vain to reach the highest. If Dr. Johnson had only in view
this lower type of genius, his definition may be considered as fairly
correct. To attain this station little more may be needed than “large
general powers,” supplemented by persevering effort.
But in order to reach the highest rank of transcendent genius something
more is needed, and that something we may call _aptness of nature_.
Bacon, after giving some examples of extraordinary skill acquired
in bodily exercises, says: “All which examples do demonstrate how
variously, and to how high points and degrees, the body of man may be,
as it were, moulded and wrought. And if any man conceive that it is
some secret propriety of nature that hath been in these persons which
have attained to those points, and that it is not open for every man to
do the like, though he had been put to it; for which cause such things
come but very rarely to pass; it is true, no doubt, that some persons
are apter than others; but so as the more aptness causeth perfection,
but the less aptness doth not disable.”
Bacon here hits the exact point. And what he says applies not to the
physical powers only, but to the intellectual powers also. A greater
degree of “aptness” is necessary to “perfection,” to the highest
excellence in any study or pursuit, though less “aptness” may lead to
eminence of a high though less perfect kind.
We speak of Napoleon’s military tact or aptness which he had from
nature, and which he so greatly improved by practice. He combined
aptness of nature with persevering study, and it was the two combined
which for so many years chained victory to his chariot wheels.
In like manner the great writer has a literary tact or aptness, the
gift of nature, and which he greatly improves by study and practice.
The two qualities of aptness and persevering study go hand in hand, and
the one is as indispensable as the other in order to reach the highest
excellence.
This leads us to what appears to be the best definition of genius
that can be given. Genius of the highest type may be defined to be “a
special aptitude developed by special culture.” Special aptitude is the
germ of genius, and is the gift of nature. Special culture is the means
by which this natural gift is fully developed and so vastly improved.
May we not suppose that the poet Burns had this definition in his eye
when he said: “I have not a doubt but the knack, the aptitude to learn
the muse’s trade, is a gift bestowed by him who forms the secret bias
of the soul; but I as firmly believe that excellence in the profession
is the fruit of industry, labor, attention, and pains!”
ARIZONA.
By REV. SHELDON JACKSON, D. D.
Arizona is a land of constant surprises. In its natural phenomena it
is the paradise of the scientist, antiquarian, and tourist. Its deep
cañons are the open book of geology; its vast prehistoric ruins alike
stimulate and baffle the antiquarian, and its marvelous scenery, its
flora, remnants of a strange people, and ancient architecture, will
attract thousands of tourists.
The first portion of the United States to be settled by Europeans, it
is the last developed of all our territories save Alaska.
Possessing the oldest civilization, it is just coming into contact with
the new. Railway trains rattle and palace cars glide past prehistoric
ruins.
With scarcely a place in history, it has been the theatre of many
stirring events for three centuries: the battleground of races and
civilizations.
It is preëminently the land of romance. It breaks upon the world and is
connected with the waning of the great empire of the Montezumas.
In the early enthusiasm of American exploration it is linked with
fabulous stores of silver. When questioned as to the source of all his
great wealth, Montezuma was accustomed to point to the north. Rumors
were rife of the northern cities of Civola (cities of the bull) and
Chichiticala, with their fabulous wealth; of wonderful rivers, with
their banks three or four leagues in the air; of races of highly
“civilized Indians, and beautiful women, fair as alabaster.”
The very name “Arizona” (silver land) fired the avarice of the Spanish
heart. The spark to set this enthusiasm on fire was supplied by the
arrival in 1536 at Culican, in Sinaloa, of Alvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca,
with three companions, all that were left of the ill-fated expedition
of Narvaez and his three hundred followers.
During nine years of untold hardship and adventure, without compass
or chart, through an unknown wilderness of woods, swamps, and arid
plains, and hostile tribes, they crossed the continent from Florida to
California, and made known a new region and people.
His description of the “seven cities of Civola,” excited alike the
warrior and the priest. New conquests and fabulous wealth, and new
fields for the Church started into existence expeditions of discovery
and conquest. On the 7th of March, 1539, Padre Marcos de Nizza, a
Franciscan monk, accompanied by Estevanico, a negro attendant, started
in search of the “seven cities.” They passed through the land of the
Papagoes and Pimas, traversed the valley of Santa Cruz, and finally
came in sight of one of the pueblos (probably Zuñi). The negro having
gone in advance with a party of Indians and been murdered, the monk did
not enter the pueblo, but returned to Culican.
The viceroy, Mendoza, then projected two expeditions, one by sea, under
Fernando de Alarcon, and the other by land, under Vasquez de Coronado.
This latter expedition started in April, 1540, with a thousand men,
mainly Indians. The expedition penetrated through Arizona to the Pueblo
villages on the Rio Grande, and northward to the fortieth degree of
latitude.
In 1582, Antonio de Espejo explored the valleys of Little Colorado, the
Verde and Rio Grande, discovering valuable mines of silver.
On September 28, 1595, Juan de Ornate asked for permission and
assistance in establishing a Spanish colony in the new country, which
was granted, and many flourishing missions and settlements sprang up.
In 1680 the pueblos of New Mexico, and the Apaches, of Arizona, arose
in rebellion and drove the Spanish from the country.
In 1698 a Jesuit missionary, Eusebius Francis Kino, left his station
at Dolores, and journeying northward, commenced missions among the
Cocopahs and Yuma Indians. Previous to this the Jesuit fathers seem to
have established the missions of St. Gertrude de Tubac, San Xavier del
Bac, Joseph de Tumacacori, San Miguel Sonoita, Guavavi, Calabassus,
Arivica, and Santa Ana. The cupidity and cruelty of the priests seemed
so great, that in 1757 the Indians rebelled, destroying the missions
and killing most of the priests.
In 1764 an unknown Jesuit priest (probably Jacobi Sedalman) visited the
country, penetrating as far north as the Verde.
In 1769 the Marquis de Croix had fourteen priests sent out to replace
those killed by the Indians.
On the 20th of April, 1773, two priests, Pedro Font and Francisco
Garcia, left Central Mexico, and the following spring explored the Gila
River from Florence to its mouth.
In 1776-7 two Franciscan priests, Sylvester Velez Escalente, and
Francisco Atanaco Dominguez, traversed Arizona, Utah, Nevada, and
California. In 1776 there were eighteen missions in Arizona. At this
time religious exploration seems to have largely ceased.
In 1773 the Spanish held the country south of Tucson, then called
Tulquson. Unwilling to leave the rich silver mines, that brought such
treasure to the Church, the priests and Spanish settlers gathered
around them in their half religious and half military missions; again
and again returned to the country, only to be again driven out by
the Apaches, so that more than half the priests sent to Arizona were
killed by the Indians. And yet the missions, through the fidelity of
the Pima and Papagoes, held their own until the revolution for Mexican
independence. From that time forward they languished, until suppressed
by a decree of the Mexican government in 1827.
In 1824 Sylvester and James Pattie, father and son, from Bardstown,
Kentucky, made up a party of one hundred adventurous frontiersmen to
trap on the headwaters of the Arkansas. After many adventures in New
Mexico the party broke up, and a few of them attempted to cross Arizona
to the Pacific. Upon reaching San Diego they were imprisoned, and the
father died in prison.
Pauline Weaver, of White County, Tennessee, penetrated Arizona as early
as 1832.
As one of the results of the Mexican War, the portion of Arizona north
of the Gila River was ceded to the United States February 2, 1848, and
the southern portion acquired by the Gadsen purchase of December 30,
1853.
The discovery of gold in California in 1849 made Arizona a highway for
the adventurous spirits that pressed across the continent to establish
an empire on the Pacific coast. In 1855 the boundary survey was
completed by Major Emory and Lieutenant Michler.
In August, 1857, a semi-monthly line of stages was put on between
San Antonio, Texas, and San Diego, California. This was followed in
August, 1858, by the celebrated Butterfield Overland Express, making
semi-weekly trips between St. Louis and San Francisco—time twenty-two
days. This was run with great regularity until the rebellion in 1861.
By act of Congress in 1854 Arizona was attached to New Mexico, and a
commissioner appointed to survey the boundary.
In 1854 Yuma was laid out under the name of Arizona City. In 1857 a few
mining settlements began to spring up in the Mohave country. In 1859
a newspaper was published for a short time at Tubac. The country was
nominally a portion of New Mexico, but Santa Fe was far away and the
Apaches ruled the land.
In 1857 and again in 1860 efforts were made in Congress to secure the
establishment of a separate territorial organization.
On the 27th of February, 1862, Captain Hunter with a band of one
hundred guerrillas reached Tucson and took possession of Arizona for
the Confederate government. The miners fled the country. The Apaches
fell upon them, murdering many of them by the way. The Mexicans rushed
across the border and stripped the mines of their machinery and
improvements, and the country was deserted.
Spurred by the necessities of the case Congress organized the Territory
of Arizona, February 24, 1863. From that time to 1874 the history of
the Territory was one of fierce struggle with the Apaches, whose power
was finally broken by General Crook, when scarcely a warrior capable of
bearing arms was left living.
And yet the wild career of the fierce Apache was not an unmingled evil.
He kept back the Spanish settlements and thus prevented the land from
being covered with large Spanish grants, which are proving so injurious
to the adjoining countries of New Mexico and California.
Since the settlement of the Apache the progress of the country has
been steady and uninterrupted, and especially rapid since the advent
of the Southern Pacific Railroad, in 1878-9. By the census of 1880 it
has 40,400 population as against 9,658 in 1870, besides some of the
semi-civilized tribes of Moquis, Pima, Papago and Maricopa Indians.
These tribes have from the beginning been the friend of the white man,
and in many critical periods the white man’s only protection from the
incursions of the wild Apache.
During the earlier days of California emigration many a man lost and
perishing on their plains was taken to their homes, nourished into
strength and sent on his way rejoicing—for all of which they have never
received any adequate return from the American people or government.
Schools have lately been established among them by the Presbyterian
Church.
The Indian population in the Territory numbers 20,800. In 1880 there
were six banks and nineteen newspapers—six of which were dailies.
The Roman Catholics had five churches and seven priests. The Mormons
thirty-five churches, one hundred and seventy-eight high priests
and five thousand members. The Presbyterians two churches and two
ministers. Protestant Episcopal one church and one minister.
In 1882 the Protestant working force in the Territory consisted
of half-a-dozen Methodist ministers, two or three Baptists, two
Episcopalians and three Presbyterians.
In 1880 there were 3,089 school children, and the school expenditures
amounted to $21,396. The production of gold and silver in 1880 was
$4,500,000. In the same year there were 145,000 head of cattle and
1,326,000 head of sheep in the country.
Arizona has an area of 114,000 square miles—about as large as all
New England and New York combined. The unbroken ranges of mountains
that sweep down between California and Nevada and through Utah and
Colorado, in Arizona are broken up into detached ranges. Among the
more remarkable of these ranges are the Peloncillo, Pinaleno, Santa
Catarina, Santa Rita, Dragoon, Chiricahuas, Mogollon, White, San
Francisco, Peacock, Cervat, and Hualapais. They generally have a
northwest and southeast course, with long narrow valleys between them.
The two great rivers are the Gila and Colorado, with their principal
tributaries, the San Juan, Little Colorado, Bill Williams, Rio Verde,
and Salt rivers. The Colorado has the most remarkable cañon formation
in the known world. The valleys of the San Juan, Little Colorado,
Salt, and Gila rivers are agricultural valleys, with millions of acres
of great fertility, producing wheat, barley, oats, cotton, tobacco,
lemons, oranges, grapes, figs, etc., of which over two hundred
thousand acres are now under cultivation. Portions of the valleys of
Santa Crux and Gila are cultivated by the Indians. Upon the Little
Colorado are many settlements of Mormons.
In the western and southwestern sections are large areas of desert
land, intensely warm in summer. The northern and eastern sections are
at a higher altitude, and possess a delightful climate. The climate is
remarkably healthy, and with the coming of railways will be greatly
sought by invalids. The Southern Pacific Railroad crosses the southern
section of the Territory from west to east, and the Atlantic and
Pacific the northern portion from east to west, while a branch line of
the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe connects the southern portion with
the Gulf of California at Guymas.
The great industry of the country is silver mining, building up
flourishing districts at Tombstone, Globe, Prescott, and other places.
Gold, copper, and lead also abound.
THE SIX FOLLIES OF SCIENCE.
By I. D’ISRAELI.
Nothing is so capable of disordering the intellects as an intense
application to any one of these six things: the Quadrature of the
Circle; the Multiplication of the Cube; the Perpetual Motion; the
Philosophical Stone; Magic; and Judicial Astrology. In youth we may
exercise our imagination on these curious topics, merely to convince
us of their impossibility; but it shows a great defect in judgment
to be occupied on them in an advanced age. “It is proper, however,”
Fontenelle remarks, “to apply one’s self to these inquiries; because we
find, as we proceed, many valuable discoveries of which we were before
ignorant.” The same thought Cowley has applied, in an address to his
mistress, thus:
“Although I think thou never wilt be found,
Yet I’m resolved to search for thee:
The search itself rewards the pains.
So though the chymist his great secret miss,
(For neither it in art or nature is)
Yet things well worth his toil he gains;
And does his charge and labor pay
With good unsought experiments by the way.”
The same thought is in Donne. Perhaps Cowley did not suspect that he
was an imitator. Fontenelle could not have read either; he struck out
the thought by his own reflection. It is very just. Glauber searched
long and deeply for the philosopher’s stone, which though he did not
find, yet in his researches he discovered a very useful purging salt,
which bears his name.
Maupertuis, in a little volume of his letters, observes on the
“Philosophical Stone,” that we can not prove the impossibility of
obtaining it, but we can easily see the folly of those who employ
their time and money in seeking for it. This price is too great to
counterbalance the little probability of succeeding in it. However
it is still a bantling of modern chemistry, who has nodded very
affectionately on it. Of the “Perpetual Motion,” he shows the
impossibility, at least in the sense in which it is generally received.
On the “Quadrature of the Circle,” he says he can not decide if this
problem be resolvable or not; but he observes, that it is very useless
to search for it any more; since we have arrived by approximation to
such a point of accuracy, that on a large circle, such as the orbit
which the earth describes round the sun, the geometrician will not
mistake by the thickness of a hair. The quadrature of the circle is
still, however, a favorite game of some visionaries, and several are
still imagining that they have discovered the perpetual motion; the
Italians nick-name them _matto perpetuo_; and Bekker tells us of the
fate of one Hartmann, of Leipsic, who was in such despair at having
passed his life so vainly in studying the perpetual motion, that at
length he hanged himself.
THE CO-RELATED FORCES.
By RICHARD BUDD PAINTER.
I will give a short account of some forces which influence matter in a
very powerful degree.
These are _Heat_, _Light_, _Electricity_, _Magnetism_, _Chemical
Affinity_ (or chemical change), and _Motion_.
Of these forces, as of those of attraction and repulsion, we again
can only judge by their effects. God alone knows their cause and real
quality.
Until a few years ago they were supposed to be quite different things
essentially, but Grove, Joule, and others have now shown them to be so
co-related as to be convertible the one into the other, and hence the
brilliant theory of the “Correlation of the Physical Forces.”
To show this co-relation and capacity for transformation I will give a
few examples. Rub a piece of iron briskly, or repeatedly strike it with
a hammer, and it will become warm. We know from this, therefore, that
motion will produce heat. Or strike a lucifer match against the box,
and the rapid motion of the match against the hard surface will produce
sufficient heat to cause the sensitive chemical substance at the end
of the match to inflame, and so to give out heat and light. Or watch a
horse trotting on a hard road at night, and sparks will every now and
then fly from his feet.
This is because by the rapid forcible motion of his legs the iron of
his shoes every now and then comes in contact with a stone, and a
minute particle of steel being struck off with great force and rapidity
it becomes red-hot, and thus presents another example of how motion can
be converted into heat.
These are instances of heat and light being produced by the motion of
friction. But now let us look at the converse case, of heat producing
motion.
Light a piece of coal, and set a kettle of water on it. The flames
resulting from chemical change soon leap out, and flicker, and flare,
and presently the water too becomes agitated, and boils with energetic
motion, and steam rushes up into the air.
Place water in a proper machine, and the force you get from the
chemical change of the coal causing the water to form steam, can make a
railway train weighing hundreds of tons rush along the rails at a mile
a minute.
These are familiar examples of how man may set in action the
correlative forces, but instances abound universally in all creation
where the correlative forces are constantly producing each other by
mutual conversion, and affecting thereby all sorts of natural changes.
By the stimulus of heat and light, etc., received from the sun, motion
and chemical change are compelled throughout nature, both animate and
inanimate. As an example of the latter take the case of water.
The water of the seas and lakes, etc., being affected by heat moves
by evaporation into the air, and afterward descends as rain or dew to
perform the well-known and indispensable uses pertaining thereto.
Then as to the way in which light and heat produce movement and
chemical change in plants and animals, I will also cite one example,
selecting plants as being the most ready of illustration.
It is under the stimulation of light and heat that the plant grows and
performs its functions; and astonishing to say, the rays, both of light
and heat, which fall on the plant are absorbed into it and fixed there.
That is to say, the chemical changes necessitated in the plant by the
light and heat, result in these factors of change being themselves
incorporated with the new wood, etc., in such a way as to be retained
there in union with the atoms of carbon and other constituents of the
tissue and products of the plant. Thus fixed they may remain for ages,
until the wood, etc., is itself subjected to change, and then either as
wood or as coal (if turned into such) it will—if burnt—again give out
that light and heat which it received and appropriated during growth.
Hitherto I have spoken of chemical decomposition only as produced by
motion, and heat, and light, but now I must give a familiar instance
in which you can produce great chemical change and movement amongst
atoms by simply mixing two chemicals together. Add tartaric acid to a
solution of carbonate of soda and a great commotion ensues, owing to
the superior affinity of the tartaric acid for the soda; and which acid
displaces the carbonic acid in previous union with the soda, and the
latter acid is turned out and escapes by violent effervescence.
This instance is but a typical example of chemical decomposition in
general, and may occur in thousands of different ways in different
chemicals, and producing not only chemical transformation, but the
manifestation in many cases of heat, and light, and electricity, etc.
I will next speak of electricity and chemical affinity conjointly.
The electrical spark will produce heat, light, chemical change, and
movement.
Faraday showed also that electricity produces magnetism, and magnetism
electricity—that indeed you can not produce the one without the other.
Again, electricity will set in motion chemical affinity or
decomposition, and conversely chemical change will produce heat, light,
electricity, motion, etc. To show this, place pieces of zinc and copper
in an acid—that is, make a voltaic battery. The acid attracts the metal
and sets up chemical action, and the result is that this chemical
action by producing a change of state, sets free electricity, which
being conducted by “the poles” or wires of the battery can there be
made manifest in the following different ways:
Bring the poles together and heat, light, motion, etc., will be
produced as witnessed in the dazzling electric light.
Or, to produce chemical change only, plunge the wires constituting “the
poles” of the battery into water, and wonderful to say the molecules of
water will have such motion imparted to them that they will be broken
up into their constituent gases; and what is most marvelous, the oxygen
will always be given off at one pole and the hydrogen at the other.
This is electrolysis or electro-chemical decomposition. Numbers of
compounds in solution may have the molecular states of their atoms
broken up thus, by the voltaic current, and curious to say of the
atoms so dissevered, as above noted, those composing a given element
will always be evolved by the same pole—the positive pole or the
negative pole as the case may be. Some elements, that is to say, always
appearing at the positive pole and others always at the negative.
Lastly I will say a few words specially as to motion.
We saw how the motion of striking the lucifer match produced chemical
change, and light, and heat. We have seen also that chemical
change—that is, the movement and change of place of the infinitely
small atoms of matter—could be produced by heat, and light, and
electricity; and that chemical change could also itself interchangeably
produce all these.
We have seen, too, that motion can be produced by heat—as by the
production of steam which drives the engine; also that light can cause
motion, as in the growth and nutrition of plants; and it remains only
in this brief summary of an immense subject, to remind the reader
that electricity and magnetism can also both of them produce motion,
not merely amongst atoms, but even in large masses, by means of their
attractions and repulsions. Rub a piece of sealing-wax or glass with
cloth or silk, and the friction will cause such a change of state in
the glass or wax as to set free electricity, and this force, thus made
evident by motion (rubbing), can itself produce motion by attracting
pieces of paper, etc.; indeed, by using well-known methods you may lift
hundreds of pounds’ weight.
So likewise as to magnetism; it can produce motion, as we see in the
oscillation of the needle of the mariner’s compass—the attraction by a
magnet of iron filings, etc.
From the above short survey of this marvelous subject, it can, I hope,
be understood by the reader that in the co-related forces we have a
most striking—nay! miraculous instance of “continuity”—that is to
say, that the force, or essence, or energy, whatever it may be and
whatever you may call it, that constitutes heat, light, etc., etc., is
never lost, but merely changes from one form, or kind, or state, into
another, in a perpetual series of everlasting transformations, each one
form being capable of producing: or changing into one or more of the
others—motion, for example, being readily transformed into heat, or
heat into motion, etc.
My illustrations have necessarily been scanty, and my explanations
brief, but I hope I have adduced sufficient to show the unscientific
that in the six correlative powers we have a protean force which is
able to assume the most astounding changes and varieties of form,
according to some mechanical law we are totally unacquainted with.
But what is the real nature of this force or forces?
As to this I can say but little: it is one of the mysteries of
creation. Experiment demonstrates that heat and light are kindred in
their mechanical constitutions, and that they consist of vibrations of
a “something” which is called ether, and it seems pretty certain that
this “wave theory” is correct; but why they vibrate we do not know.
Then of the nature of magnetism and electricity we know even less,
and can only say they are changes of the state of “something” which
produces changes in the state of other things, both of matter and
forces.
Some persons have thought that whereas light consists probably of the
vibrations of “ether” in a particular manner, so, that electricity and
magnetism may depend also on different kinds of strain or wave motion
of this same “ether,”—either of that of space, or of the “ether” that
permeates all substances. But, of course, this is all hypothesis.
So, too, of “chemical affinity,” we do not know exactly why it acts as
it does, or what its force really consists in; we can only say that it
depends on the different motions and appetencies or repulsions of the
atoms of the various kinds of matter being made manifest, when such
atoms are loosened from their previous condition by heat or what not,
and so being rendered free, are able, through their inherent qualities
and attractions, to arrange themselves afresh under the new conditions,
in the order compelled by such endowed qualities and attractions.
We can only judge of motion, or force, or energy by witnessing its
effects; and when we say that gunpowder or coal contain in them a store
of potential energy, we only know that they do contain the capacity for
producing movement and doing work. The gunpowder will, if inflamed,
expand suddenly by the production of gases resulting from chemical
changes induced by heat, and in such explosion will give liberty to
enormous force.
And so likewise as to coal: on being subjected to chemical change by
heat, it will, though in a less rapid way, give off its equivalent of
force or energy; but as to what this acting force or energy really is,
we know nothing more than that it is motion—and as to what potential
force is, we know nothing more than that it is the capacity for
movement in store.
SOME GERMAN ART AND ARTISTS.
If it is true, as Emerson affirmed, that “It never was in the power
of any man or any community to call the arts into being,” that “they
come to serve his natural wants, never to please his fancy,” then
Berlin offers in her new National Gallery a fine illustration of this
theory. In 1841 King Frederick William IV engaged the architect Stüler
to draw a plan of a building, after the style of a Corinthian temple,
which should inclose a fine room, serviceable as a lecture hall for the
University, an exhibition hall for pictures, or a public audience room.
They determined to locate this building just back of the Royal Museum,
on the so called “Museum Island.” The king died before his plan was
developed. In March, 1861, the Swedish consul, J. H. W. Wagener died in
Berlin, leaving as a legacy to the state his collection of pictures,
which was known in the city as the “Wagener Collection,” which occupied
several rooms in the “Kunst Akademie.” In these same rooms every two
years was held the exhibition for German artists, accompanied with the
never ceasing regret that the accommodations were so poor. So necessity
originated the idea of utilizing the “Corinthian Temple,” then about
to be built, not for a “city hall,” according to the intention of
Frederick William IV, but for an “art museum,” exclusively for German
art. The thought of such a magnificent temple for their future works
inspired all ambitious German artists, for it was understood that
whenever anything superior was produced it should pass into the public
possession, thus rendering the sale of great works possible, and
establishing a connection between the artists and the State—a plan
which was advocated years ago by Herman Grimm.
After it was decided to use this building for a gallery, Stüler
occupied himself with the necessary architectural changes which he only
completed a short time before his death. The corner stone was laid
on the 2nd of December, 1867. The work advanced slowly, and was, of
course, interrupted by the Franco-Prussian war. After the victories it
was resumed, and grew as rapidly as all buildings did in that memorable
year of 1871, when it was scarcely possible to secure a dwelling in the
German capital.
It stands a grand monument to German taste and genius of the 19th
century, and very appropriately contains on its proud front the simple
inscription:
DER DEUTSCHEN KUNST, MDCCCLXXI.
It is said to be the finest modern gallery in Europe, and is one among
the few buildings designed especially for a gallery, old palaces
being utilized generally for this purpose. I doubt not, however (if
European critics would believe it), that the Boston, New York and
Philadelphia art museums or academies are in architectural design in
many respects superior. The National Gallery in Berlin is built of
the reddish Nebraer sandstone. The dimensions are 62 metres long by
31 wide. From the ground plan can be seen the extent of the flight of
stairs outside, which lead to a portico. This portico is supported in
the pseudo-peripteral Corinthian style. The columns extend around the
entire second story of the building. Between each two is engraved the
name of an architect or artist. There are four fine groups of statuary
on this stairway. A door opens from the portico into the second floor
of the building, which is not in keeping with the generous dimensions
of the columns and stairs. The entrance adds 34 metres in length to the
building.
The walls of the entrance hall or vestibule in the first floor are
overlaid with red Pyrenean marble; the ceiling is metal made in the
Cassetin pattern, so much used in the Dresden gallery, and is supported
by four Ionic columns. On the left broad white marble stairs lead to
the second floor. To the right is a large open space for statuary.
The first hall runs obliquely, and rests upon twelve black Belgian
marble pillars, with capital and base of gilded zinc. The walls are of
a sombre yellow stucco, reflective as marble. Upon the arched ceiling
is frescoed in grey the story of the “Niebelungen Lied,” which is
exceedingly pretty, surrounded as it is by brilliant borders. Between
the columns the wall rises in the form of arches, and in these arches
the story of Siegfried is painted.
Leading from this first hall to the left is a room for statuary (II),
two rooms beyond for pictures (III and IV), to the right four rooms
(XIV, XIII, XII, XI,) for paintings. These again unite in an oblique
hall for statuary which expands into five fan-like rooms for paintings.
Ascending the stairs slowly, we can study a plaster frieze, extending
around the wall from the first to the second story, representing the
“Progress of Civilization in Germany.” All her great men are here,
from St. Boniface and Charles the Great to Frederick William IV, and
the distinguished men of his times, kings, princes, poets, scientists,
philosophers, _literateurs_, philanthropists, historians, musicians,
artists, architects, sculptors, all are here gracefully and ingeniously
brought out with their own accessories, consciously or unconsciously
working with their separate aims into one another’s hands. It is a
succession of men one can well pause to study. Otho I, Ulrich von
Hütten, Melancthon, Luther, Cranach, Holbein, Dürer, the great elector,
Libnitz, Winkelmann, Mengs, Klopstock, Bach, Glück, Frederick the
Great, Kant, Lessing, Schiller, Goethe, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven,
Blücher, Stein, Schleiermacher, Hegel, the brothers Grimm, Humboldt,
Weber, Schinkel, Tieck, Rauch, Overbeck, Kaulbach, Stüber, Cornelius,
Meyerbeer, Mendelssohn, Rietichel Kiss, Hildebrandt—are only selected
from the long list. Among all are the names of but two women! Sophia
Charlotte, and Queen Louise, who make prominent the two monarchs
standing by their sides. Is it not almost dazzling to see this nation
growing by “its own genius into a civilization of its own?”
We must not forget, however, in the distraction of thought caused by
the encounter of the representative men of eleven centuries that we are
ascending the stairs of a modern gallery in search of the works of a
single man, who stood at the head of his own department, and revived
art in Germany in a century when the equipoise between it and other
interests had been lost.
There has been much dissatisfaction expressed by critical people that
the two handsomest rooms in the National Gallery have been devoted to
the shadowy old cartoons of Cornelius. But we intend to enter these
rooms, not with the complaints of many fresh in our memory, but in the
spirit of Hermann Grimm—he who says of himself that he “regards art as
the noblest fruit of human activity,” and who writes in his “Life of
Michael Angelo:” “Since Michael Angelo’s death, no one has presented
such vast problems to art as Cornelius, whose noble conceptions have
been more powerfully and grandly embodied with increasing years. He
is a painter in the highest sense. Like Michael Angelo and Raphael,
he touches the intellectual life of the people on all points, and
endeavors to represent that which most deeply affects their minds. Yet
in spite of all, how do his efforts, and all that has resulted from
them, tell upon the people? and what has been the end of the mighty
power waited for through centuries? With deep shame I write the fate
awarded to this man in Prussia. He is not, indeed, allowed to suffer
want; an honorable, brilliant old age has fallen to his lot. But,
while for that which is called official art, the greatest sums are
fixed and given, not only are there none finished of the paintings
ordered of Cornelius—the cartoons of which, whenever they appear,
eclipse everything else, unsightly as is their gray paper and charcoal
strokes—but so much can not even be obtained in Berlin as a couple
of simple walls for the cartoons of the paintings executed by him in
Munich, which are kept shut up there, or go traveling around the world,
appearing in Belgium, Austria and England, acquiring in these places
the notoriety to which he owes his late fame. Engravings are taken from
them. As photographs, they are in every hand; and in this way their
influence will endure, until, perhaps, some day a museum worthy of
them may be achieved, where they may find their true place, not as the
ornament of a Camposants, but as the memorials of a great man.”
The day has arrived! The words of Hermann Grimm for his friend have not
been lost, but like Ruskin’s praise of Turner, have fallen into good
ground. Before reaching the Cornelius Halls, the Cupola room, which
is the most gorgeous in ornamental work, must be entered. At the top
of nine pillars are the sitting figures of the nine muses in light
polychromatic tints—so exquisitely delicate the shells of the sea seem
to have furnished the colors. Between these figures the roof forms into
shells, above which and encircling the dome, are painted the signs of
the zodiac in brilliant colors upon a gold background. This “Cupola
Saal” has four doors, one from the vestibule, the other opening into
the Cornelius Halls, and the other two on either side leading into
the long picture halls. I have said doors—but fortunately there are
no doors in this tasteful building; costly tapestry, caught back in
bewitching folds alone indicate the entrance from one room to another.
The portraits of the emperor and empress are the only pictures in the
Cupola Hall. Unfortunately they are not from Angelo’s brush. The artist
Plockhorst is comparatively unknown, and these portraits are very
conventional in style.
The frescoes on the ceiling in the Cornelius Halls were done under
the direction of Professor E. Bendemann, by Ernst, Fritz, Röber and
William Beckmann. The Germans call it wax color, after the receipt of
Prof. Andreas Müller, of Düsseldorf. The subjects are only the long
catalogue of beautiful abstractions as Prophecy, Science, Genius, etc.,
but the color and execution show the high degree of perfection of
modern frescoes. In the second hall is depicted the myths of Prometheus
in this same wax color. The drawing of Prometheus’ figure taken from
one of Cornelius’ cartoons, in Munich, is especially fine—so full of
strength and fortitude. He looks a splendid type of vicarious suffering
and strength of will, resisting oppression, almost ready to exclaim in
Lowell’s lines:
“I am still Prometheus, and foreknow
In my wise heart the end and doom of all.”
In looking at this figure, and in studying carefully the cartoons, we
tried to come to an impartial conclusion between the opinions of German
and French writers in regard to the school of Cornelius, or the revival
of German art. This began twenty years later than that of the French,
under Louis David, and is said to have been undertaken in an entirely
different spirit. A French author says in regard to the Germans that
“instead of carrying art forward they turned back, and being not bold
enough to go on to the discovery of a new future they took refuge in
archaism.” Every one knows that after the death of Albert Dürer, art
in Germany fell asleep, that it was aroused by the rumors of a revival
in France. Also that the little German colony with Overbeck directing
it, did go to Rome to study the antique, but to go further with the
Frenchman and say that all subsequent heads of schools—Peter Cornelius
included—followed to the letter the paradoxical advice of Lanzi, “that
modern artists should study the artists of the times preceding Raphael,
for Raphael, springing from these painters, is superior to them, whilst
those who followed him have not equalled him”—we can not, inasmuch as
the statement includes Cornelius. If it had not been for the interest
of Niebuhr, who was German ambassador at Rome when Cornelius was
studying there, in exerting himself to get the Prussian government to
give Cornelius commissions at home, he might have remained in Italy,
and, like Overbeck and others, renounced the religion of his fathers,
as well as all style but that anterior to the reformation. But he did
go back to Germany. He may have gone to Italy with Van Eyck, Holbein,
and Dürer in his mind; he may have returned with Michael Angelo and
Raphael as ideals, but he certainly worked as Cornelius.
While not disagreeing with the French altogether, we can not unite
with the Germans entirely in believing that “he drew the human body
as though he saw it for the first time, and had never seen it painted
or drawn by others.” He certainly received many impressions, before
going to Rome, from the old German and Netherland masters, and adding
to all what he learned in Rome, this idea of total individualism seems
preposterous. What one must feel in studying his works is, that he did
not obliterate from his memory what he had studied from Grecian, Roman,
and German Art, but he reconciled them in his own mind, and worked out
in his own way results from this reconciliation, giving to Germany
productions as faithful to her own instincts as ever Albert Dürer or
Lucas Cranach did.
The Düsseldorf Academy was the first result. Of this school even
Frenchmen have been willing to write: “The school of Düsseldorf, from
Kaulbach and Lessing to Knaus, and the school of Munich, with Piloty,
Adam, Horschelt, Lier, etc., by returning to picturesque truth have
returned to their own times and to their own country.”
The “National Gallery,” as yet, has but two cartoons from Kaulbach; no
painting. The fine old “Treppen Haus,” in the Royal Museum, should be
in this modern gallery to make the collection chronological, for these
frescoes belong essentially to modern art, and would be in their place,
leading from the Cornelius Saals, as Kaulbach was one of his favorite
pupils.
As the Düsseldorf Academy is the oldest of German schools, a glance at
the first artists educated there will be proper. Schadow, who was born
in 1789, and who succeeded Cornelius as director of this academy, is
represented by two pictures, “The Walk to Emmaus,” and a female head.
One discovers at once more poetical feeling than in the pictures of his
master, who delighted, like Milton, in painting
“Dread horror plumed—
Dire tossings and deep groans.”
Schadow died in Düsseldorf in 1862, leaving such pupils as Hübner,
Lessing, Bendemann, etc., the latter being appointed, in 1859, his
successor. Bendemann carries many honors—and paints good pictures—the
gold medal from the Paris Exposition of 1837, and the medal from
Vienna in 1873. He is knight of the “Order of Merit,” Fellow of the
Societies at Berlin, Vienna, Munich, Cassel, Antwerp, Brussels,
Amsterdam, Copenhagen, Stockholm, Philadelphia. He belongs intimately
to that class of German artists who began to modify the rigid dignity
and formal tendencies of historical pictures by freedom of style and
warmth of color. In this sense his great picture (now in the National
Gallery), “Jeremiah at the Fall of Jerusalem,” was said to produce
an epoch in art. Bendemann resigned his position as director of the
Düsseldorf Academy in 1867.
Of all the Düsseldorf artists, Karl Frederick Lessing (whose style
lies between the old and new school), Ludwig Knaus, and the brothers
Achenbach, are the best known in America. In Cincinnati some of the
best pictures of Lessing, and Andreas and Oswald Achenbach can be seen
in private galleries, while in Boston and New York “The Golden Wedding”
and the “Holy Family,” Knaus’s _chief-d´œuvres_, can be found. The
latter picture proved to be too valuable for the Empress of Russia
(by whom it had been ordered) to take,[I] and so fell into the hands
of a wealthy New York lady, who was attracted toward it when it was
on exhibition in Berlin two years ago. Lessing’s original sketch of
“The Martyrdom of Huss,” is in Cincinnati, as well as some of Andreas
Achenbach’s best marine pictures. The names of Schräder, Schirmer,
Hübner, Knille, Hoff, and Gelhardt, are not so well known outside of
Germany. The German artists, with the exception of Makart, who, as an
Austrian, does not class himself with the northern German school, left
such an indescribably blank page in the Philadelphia Exposition, owing
to their indifference and timidity, and want of energy in sending off
their pictures, that the American mind is sadly prejudiced against
German art. The French pictures have so long crowded the market that
not until some young disciples of the Munich school returned to New
York several years ago, would they believe that there was such a thing
as German art. And now the impression is that it all concentrates in
Munich. What is to be done with Knaus, Werner, Richter, Knille, Gussow,
and the other distinguished names in northern Germany?
In Knaus, to whom we have already referred, and who has been recently
called to Berlin as director of one of the newly-established “Meister
Ateliers,” one finds that rare accordance of the character of the man
with the peculiar excellencies of his productions. His _genre_ pictures
reflect his own spirit. He is as genuine, unaffected, and fresh in his
feelings as the children he paints.
Werner, the director of the Royal Academy of Berlin, made the designs
for the Column of Victory, and has a tremendous productive power,
almost equal to Makart, but he is far from possessing the luxuriant
imagination and oriental instinct for color that distinguishes the
latter from the artists of his day.
Gentz paints with vigor and fine sentiment oriental pictures. He has
spent much time in the East, and has innumerable treasures for his
house, which is one of the most attractive in Berlin.
Gustave Richter is considered by many the greatest of the German
artists. He is a favorite at court, and the National Gallery is
indebted to the emperor for the most wonderful picture he ever painted,
“The Raising of Jairus’ Daughter.” Richter married the daughter of
Meyerbeer, the composer. He paints his wife as often as Rembrandt
painted “Saskia,” and in much the same style. One of the best, although
less known of these portraits, is that called by the artist “Revery.”
Knille’s well-known picture of “Tannhäuser and Venus,” with its superb
half-defined drapery of silk and satin, from which the faultless Venus
rises, and the pellucid streams of light flow, and the flowers invested
with purpureal gleams, is in the possession of the National Gallery.
Carl Becker is well liked in America, but it is doubtful, however,
if the talented dwarf Menzel is ever heard of outside Germany. His
countrymen are too fond of his pictures to allow them to go beyond
their reach. He can paint anything and everything, from the glittering
rooms of Sanssouci to the forging and rolling machine works. He has
a picture of this latter class in the Gallery, where the varied
lights—daylight, firelight, reflected light from red-hot iron, all
fall upon the faces of the men; a feat in painting but little less
remarkable than that of Rembrandt’s “_Ronde de Nuit_,” at Amsterdam.
There remains but the “Schlachten-maler,” as the Germans call them,
with Camphausen at the head, whose battle scenes are multiplying in
times of peace as if they were still longing for
“The smoke of the conflict,
The cannon’s deep roar.”
If one regards works of art as the necessary products of their age,
these artists are following with fidelity the direction of their own
times. The emperor is a soldier at heart, and Camphausen as court
painter only represents his sovereign’s taste on canvas. Steffeck,
Dietz, Franz, Adam, belong to this same class. When Pascal said, “How
vain is painting which excites our admiration for the likeness of
things, the original of which we do not admire,” Louis Vierdot calls
him a philosopher, and especially a Christian, but not an artist.
In looking at these battle pictures and Gussow’s burly girls and
toothless old men, we prefer not to be artistic. “Ah,” said a young
Munich disciple, “we do not think much of Gussow here in Munich; he is
like the ceramic sensation; he will soon wear out.” But the Berlinese
laugh this jealousy to scorn. They have a _genius_ among them in this
very sensational Gussow. He is a young man not more than thirty, who
was called to Berlin from Düsseldorf to take the ladies’ class in
the Berlin Academy. He teaches these enthusiastic pupils as if they
were strong, rough men, preparing themselves to encounter criticism;
to banish everything that reminds them of an artificial world; that
they may help him to restore nature to her simplicity, and in so
doing absolve themselves from all laws by which perverted ideas seek
security against themselves. He says, “Paint what you see! Art is not
always to seek for the beautiful. A widow in her weeds is as fine a
model as a bride in her orange blossoms. Lay on the color as nature
has laid it on—rough and coarse if you find it so. Draw the figure
large, gross, and rude, if in so doing you can emancipate yourself from
conventionalism. By force of refinement art perishes, like society. It
must be refreshed once in a while by a return to barbarism!” Gussow’s
pictures are like bold statements and frank confessions, and a better
teacher for shrinking, undecided talent, either in man or woman, is not
to be found. He is the most wonderful colorist of the age in Germany.
In conclusion, we ask if the day has not arrived in Germany, and even
in Northern Germany, when she has a national art? Rome claimed at the
beginning of the last century, that she was the jail of the German
and Netherland artists. Paris boastingly says the same to-day; but we
believe just persons, after examining into the condition of the various
German schools, will admit that they have much peculiar to themselves,
even if many of their artists have studied in Paris. (In a catalogue of
two hundred names I find twenty-five only who ever received instruction
in Paris.)
* * * * *
The International Geological Congress, which met at Bologna last
year, decided upon the preparation of a geological map of Europe, and
appointed an international committee to superintend the work. The
map is to be published in Berlin. It will include the whole basin of
the Mediterranean and all of Europe to the eastern slope of the Ural
mountains. The river systems, the principal towns, the more important
mountain-ranges, and the curves indicating sea depths, will be some
of its features. The object of the committee will be to give a clear
representation of geological conditions.
* * * * *
“When you have found the master passion of a man, remember never to
trust him where that passion is concerned.”—_Lord Chesterfield._
FOOTNOTE:
[I] The picture was finished during the troubled times in Russia, and
the empress doubtless thought more of provision for the poor soldiers
than pictures for her drawing-room. Knaus had intended to exhibit it in
America at the Centennial, but did not complete it in time. He wrote
to the late Mr. A. T. Stewart to send a picture in his possession to
Philadelphia, if agreeable to him, but Mr. Stewart replied he could not
allow a Knaus to go out of his hands.
THE HISTORY OF EDUCATION.
By W. T. HARRIS.
IV.—PERSIA.
In sketching the history of education, I am careful not to limit my
consideration to the school. The most important interest to us is a
discussion of the new ideas contributed to civilization—the ideas that
have come down to our own time, and that have exercised an influence
on all the great national movements that have appeared on the surface
of history. The true view of history looks upon it as a process by
which Divine Providence educates the race. He unfolds something to each
people, and does not let that revelation vanish again from earth, but
causes its transmission to other nations, often by dark and mysterious
providences:
“One accent of the Holy Ghost
This heedless world hath never lost.”
In Persia we have a new religious principle making its appearance,
quite different from those we have met in our studies of China and
India. It is the distinction between good and evil, both being regarded
by the Persian as real and self-existent principles. Hence we have
a negative power in the divine; for not good alone is supreme, but
the good is limited by evil, and both are eternal, or at least real
and actual, in the present world. The Hindu did not acknowledge the
reality of evil; it was all “maya,” or illusion—a mere dream of our
feverish consciousness. The whole world of nature, as well as the
world of human beings, was likewise a dream that exists only in human
consciousness. It is the duty of the good Brahmin to get rid of this
dream of a world, by means of abstraction and penance and mortification
of the flesh. When the devotee has tortured and misused his body until
he has benumbed and paralyzed it to a degree that it can not feel or
perceive, then he is no longer haunted by the things of the world. They
do not any longer flow into his mind through his senses, and he becomes
divine, or like Brahm, who has no distinctions whatever, and hence no
knowledge of anything, nor consciousness of himself. For consciousness
is a distinction of the me into subject and object, the knowing and the
known—I and me.
The Hindu will not regard evil as divine, or as a part of the
highest principle. He goes farther than this,—he will not admit any
distinctions at all as divine. He thinks all distinction is division or
limitation. Limitation in God is the distinction of his infinitude. It
will not do, therefore, to think God as this or that, or as not this
or that, for thus we should limit him. He must be pure unity, without
distinction—yes, he must be above unity, above all thought.
The Hindu, therefore, can not permit the ideas of righteousness
and goodness to be applied to Brahm any more than he can admit the
application of wickedness and evil. Special gods, Indra, Varuna,
Vishnu, Brahma, may be righteous, but Brahm is above goodness and above
righteousness, as well as above evil.
The Persian, however, does not accept such a doctrine. He believes
that there is Ahura-Mazda (Ormuzd), the lord of all good, and opposed
to him is Ahriman, the lord of all evil. The Persian insists on this
dualism. Both principles are real; they are in perpetual conflict.
This difference in religious principles causes great differences in
character between the two peoples.
The Persian was an active people, making war on surrounding nations
and fighting to extend the dominion of Ahura-Mazda and to gain a
victory over Ahrimanes. The Hindu, on the other hand, in his education,
cultivates abstract contemplation and meditation, and does not believe
in wars or conflict. The child must be taught how to attain the
blessedness of passivity and repose. No active duties for him—no
struggles to overcome nature, to slay wild beasts or exterminate the
pests of the earth, but he must be mild, and spare animal life, even
in tigers, serpents, scorpions, and vermin. The Persian education
fits the youth for a career of active warfare against wild beasts and
all unclean animals. Clean animals are such as are in the service of
light and truth and purity and cleanliness. The unclean do not serve
Ahura-Mazda, but darkness and evil and filth and foulness. Unclean
beasts are supposed to be tenanted by evil spirits in the service of
Ahriman. Not only the horse and cow, but the hedgehog, who roams about
at night when evil spirits are abroad, and the beaver, who kills the
evil beings in the water, are clean animals. All scavenger animals—all
carrion birds also serve Ahura-Mazda.
This principle of good and evil seems to have been at first the
principle of light and darkness only. It would seem that Zoroaster
converted what was a principle of nature into a spiritual principle.
The religion of the Brahmins was also a religion based chiefly on the
same distinction of light and darkness, in the early times before their
migration from the high table-lands of Bactria, to the southeast, to
the Indus valley. But the Brahmin, given to abstract thinking, ascended
to the idea of a supreme unity as the origin and final destiny of his
Vedic gods of the sky, while the Persian changed light and darkness
to moral principles of good and evil, and made their difference more
substantial than their unity.
Persian education, in the family and school, trained the youth to ride
on horseback, to shoot with the bow and arrow, and, above all things,
to speak the truth. This duty to speak the truth is to the Persian
before all other duties, because truth is akin to clearness and light,
and hence also to the good and pure—to Ahura-Mazda. Falsehood is the
setting up of what is not, and hence inconsistent with reality. Hence
the veil of falsehood prevents one from seeing reality, and hence it
is akin to darkness. Next to truth-speaking is the practice of justice
among the Persians. Like the truth, justice is self-consistent, and
hence clear and simple. Justice treats each one according to his deed,
returning upon him like for like. What one actually does is treated as
the reality of his will, and justice is therefore a sort of respect
shown toward personal reality. The thief steals property; justice
says, “I respect your will; you wish to destroy the right of property,
and _your_ right of property shall be destroyed because it is _your_
will. The people who are not thieves all will to respect the right of
property, and therefore their property shall be respected. You, thief,
shall lose your property, and also the ownership of your limbs: you
shall go into prison, and sit still, and no longer possess the freedom
of locomotion.” Injustice would make all human action uncertain and
obscure, and the darkness of Ahriman would prevail.
Truth-speaking is the worship of reality. If all things and all events
are only a dream, it is of no consequence to pay so much respect to
them as to be scrupulous of veracity in regard to them. Hence the
Hindu makes monstrous fables about things and events, and lets them
become the sport of his imagination. Thus we see how deep-reaching the
religious principle is, and how widely different the Persian system of
education is from the Hindu.
The Chinese revere the past, and make their education consist in
memorizing with superstitious exactness the forms of the past—the
maxims of Confucius and Mencius. Even the vehicle of literature, the
art of writing, requires prodigious efforts of memory to acquire
it. “Do not exercise your spontaneity, but conform to the past. Be
contented in repeating the thoughts which were uttered twenty-five
hundred years ago. Make no new paths; plan out no new undertakings.”
The Persian is not content with the past. He must assist Ahura-Mazda
in the great contest with evil and darkness, and hence he must do
something new. He must hurry to the front. Along the border-land rages
the fight. The man who is content to remain within the domain already
conquered is a craven, and does nothing for the extension of the realm
of light and goodness, but allows the realm of darkness and evil to
hold its own attitude of defiance.
Besides truth-speaking and faithfulness to promises, the Persians
prized gymnastics. All boys were trained in throwing the spear and
javelin, as well as in shooting the bow and arrow and riding on
horse-back. An active life is provided for. This training of the body
is for real service in the world. The tortures and mortification of the
body in India show a very different object.
The Persian youth were educated at home in the family, chiefly by the
mothers, until the seventh year. Then the public education began, under
the care of teachers venerable with age and exemplary character. From
ten to fifteen years the boys learned prayers and the holy books of
Zoroaster, and especially the ceremonies necessary to purification.
The belief was that a person became unclean if he touched a corpse of
man or of any clean animal. All clean animals became unclean at death,
while all unclean animals became clean at death. For death was the
symbol of conquest by the opposing power. The Persian who had become
unclean must go through a tedious process of purification. It was a
process of driving out the evil spirit that had taken possession of
him. After various ceremonies of sprinkling himself with earth and
water and gomez, he drove the evil demon from his head and body and
limbs, and could now approach his fellow men once more and go near
sacred fire. The formal ceremony of purification must be undertaken,
not only on occasions of touching unclean things, but also at stated
periods, in order to counteract unobserved pollution that might have
happened. At the age of fifteen the boy put on the sacred girdle,
composed of exactly seventy-two threads of camel’s hair or wool, worn
day and night for protection from evil spirits. On putting on this
girdle, after the ceremony of purification, the youth took a solemn vow
to obey the law of Zoroaster.
The school education took place in the public market-place. There were
four divisions, one set apart for the boys who had not put on the
sacred girdle; another for the youth between fifteen and twenty-five
years; another for those between twenty-five and fifty years, and a
fourth for the old men, who came when they pleased. The second class,
the unmarried youth, passed the night under arms as a police force
or a garrison for defense. The boys brought with them their dinner,
consisting of bread and water-cresses.
Hunting was practiced by the youth as a proper military training. The
youth were compelled to live on such game as they could kill, otherwise
they must go hungry. The public education was open to all classes of
citizens, but only the boys and not the girls, it seems, received it.
There was special education for the nobility to supplement the public
education. It was such education as pages receive by attending court
and seeing the fine manners there, observing the looks and behavior of
great statesmen and heroes.
The Persian was taught to spread life, plant trees, dig wells,
fertilize deserts; especially it was his duty to extend the frontier
and carry far and wide the dominion of the great king of Persia,
vicegerent of Ormuzd.
The great monarchies of the river valley of the Tigris and Euphrates
were subdued and added to the Persian empire. The wonderful cities
of Babylon and Nineveh had been the wonders of the world in arts
and commerce, and at times the terror of surrounding nations. Cyrus
conquered Lydia, and then Babylon. Cambyses conquered Egypt. Darius
and Xerxes carried war into Europe, and finally Persia receives its
first check from the Greeks, who by-and-by, under Alexander, conquer
the whole of the Persian empire.
The Persians were a composite people, no less than twelve tribes or
nations being combined by the genius of Cyrus. There seems to have been
in the tribe of the Magi a series of degrees indicating progressive
culture in wisdom. There are mentioned the herbeds, or apprentices, the
moheds, or journeymen, and the destur-moheds, or masters.
The river valley of the Tigris and Euphrates, and the valley of the
Nile are wonderfully rich in historic material. We have learned much by
means of excavations in the ruins about the ancient civilizations that
prevailed there. There was another river valley farther to the north.
The Oxus River, that now flows into the sea of Aral, once flowed with
the Aral waters into the Caspian Sea. Great nations lived in that river
valley, and terrible struggles went on between the Tartaric hordes that
came in from the northeast, and Aryan and Semitic tribes on the south.
Persian influence extended with its conquests until it affected in one
way or another all the nations about the Mediterranean Sea. Many are
the doctrines and customs which have entered European culture, which
indicate that influence. Secret societies point back to a derivation
from the Persian Magi. Commonly it is some reaction that we discover.
The Christian faith was obliged to defend itself often in its early
career against some view of God and the world that had come west from
Persia. The heresies of Gnosticism and of Neo-Platonism were chiefly
of Persian origin. The endeavor to explain nature and man had led to
the adoption of such theories as were hostile to the revealed truth. In
the early period of the Roman emperors, the Persian worship of Mithra
extended very widely among the Roman people.
What was positive with the Persians is the principle of activity, of
active contest against the empire of darkness and evil. This principle
has survived, we hope, and will survive, as an essential constituent
of the faith of all future peoples. No compromise with evil, but its
subjugation by light and truth!
THE WEARY HEART.
By REV. FRANK S. CHILD.
Oh! weary heart, think not
Thou art alone to-night!
Attendant spirits watch,
Unseen by mortal sight.
Oh! weary heart, faint not!
The Master knows thy need:
One word of sincere prayer—
He giveth loving heed.
Oh! weary heart, yield not!
If trials press thee sore:
An arm of might is thine,
The Lord saith, o’er and o’er.
Oh! weary heart, believe!
A faith that brings thee peace
Is nobler far than doubt,
With hope’s dark, dread surcease.
Oh! weary heart, rejoice!
Love never wrought in vain;
Thou too shalt soon abide
Where suns nor wax nor wane.
* * * * *
Oh! heart, thy weariness
Long, long e’er this has fled;
Thou liv’st the larger life
Though numbered with the dead.
ADVANTAGE OF WARM CLOTHING.
There are men, called chemists, who know a great deal concerning the
nature of different kinds of substances, and who, in consequence of
this knowledge, are able to bring about very surprising changes and
effects. These men have places, termed laboratories, or labor shops, in
which they work, and which are divided into distinct chambers, besides
being furnished with all sorts of instruments and vessels. Sometimes
liquids are put into these chambers and vessels, and there turned into
solids. Sometimes both liquids and solids are converted into invisible
air. Sometimes beautiful crystals, white and blue, green and red,
are brought out of transparent and colorless fluids. Sometimes a few
grains of dusty looking powder are made to vanish into smoke with an
explosion that shakes the ground for yards; and sometimes waste rubbish
is transformed into delicious scents, resembling those which are
produced from the violet and the rose. Even dull, black charcoal has
been changed into the sparkling and precious diamond. It would require
a very large book merely to number the wonderful feats these men of
science are able to perform. Chemists, indeed, in the present day can
do much more by their knowledge and skill, than magicians pretended
they could accomplish in the olden time.
Chemists make use of many very powerful agents in their laboratories,
to aid them in carrying out their objects and plans. Among these agents
there are two that stand before all the rest both in strength and in
general usefulness. These prime assistants of the chemists are fire
and water. The water is employed to dissolve substances whose little
particles it is desired to bring closely together. When two different
liquids thus formed are mixed, all the particles in the two come
together and act upon one another. Fire is used to soften substances,
and loosen the hold of their little particles upon each other, so
that they may afterwards be readily mixed together. Water _dissolves_
bodies; that is, makes them liquid by uniting them with itself. Fire
_melts_ bodies; that is, makes them liquid without the aid of water.
Now there is one object which the chemists often have in view, when
they put different kinds of substances together, in a dissolved or
liquid state, in the chambers and vessels of their laboratories; that
is, to get something out of those substances, which was before hidden
away in them, in order that they may turn that something to practical
use. Thus the chemist mixes together saltpetre, sulphur, and charcoal
in the right proportions to make gunpowder. Then having rammed a charge
of the gunpowder down into the tube of a gun, with a bullet on the top
of a charge, he applies a spark to the gunpowder, and makes it change
into smoke and vapor. Something which was hidden away in the gunpowder
ceases to be concealed when it is changed into smoke and vapor, and
becomes active enough to be able to drive the bullet out of the muzzle
of the gun with a force that carries it through the air for a mile, and
perhaps then buries it deep in the ground, or in a plank of wood. This
is an instance of the way in which chemists produce motion, by changing
the state and condition of material substance.
I had occasion the other day to watch a still more interesting
example of this strange result of the chemist’s skill. In a chemist’s
laboratory, prepared for a particular service, I saw several small
chambers of metal, half copper and half zinc, into which were poured
blue vitriol and water, and an acid, a partition wall of pipe-clay
standing between. The dilute acid and the zinc were slowly turning into
white vitriol, which remained dissolved away in the water; but out of
this new-made white vitriol there flowed a power, which was conveyed
along a wire, and which made a needle, hung up on a pivot before me,
twitch from side to side, almost as if it had been a living thing. I
was told that this power set free in the solution, in consequence
of the changes brought about there, would run along the wire to the
distance of a hundred, or even of a thousand miles, and would there
make another needle work and twitch in the same way. In short, I was
looking at the electric telegraph at work, and learning that the agent
which made the signal afar was simply a power that had been hidden
away in the different substances the chemist put together in the
metal chambers, and that was set free and enabled to operate in the
production of independent motion, so soon as those substances acted
upon one another, and altered the form and state in which each was
existing.
Now, my good friend, your living body, and my own, are laboratories, in
which changes of precisely the same kind are constantly brought about;
your living body, and my own, are made of an enormous quantity of
separate chambers and vessels, very small, it is true, but nevertheless
such as can be seen quite distinctly when they are looked for with the
microscope. In these small chambers and vessels different kinds of
substances are thrown together, exactly as the zinc, and acid, and blue
vitriol are in the laboratory-chambers of the electric telegraph. The
chambers and vessels of the living laboratory lie between meshes of
the supply pipes of the body, and it is indeed their minute cavities
which are drenched by the circulating streams of the dissolved food
(see “Value of Good Food”), and in which that dissolved food gets to
be transformed into flesh and fat, gristle and bone, tendons and skin,
fibres and nerves. The blood, which is pumped forth with such vigor
from the heart, creeps along slowly through the smallest and furthest
branches of the supply-pipes, in order that plenty of time may be given
for all these changes to be worked out in the chambers of the frame.
But the fibres and skin, the flesh and the nerves, when they have been
built up, are also changed into waste substance by admixture with yet
other ingredients which the blood brings to the little chambers. In
the cavities of the living laboratory, as in those of the electric
telegraph, these changes of substance lead to the setting free of
agents before concealed, which agents then operate in the production
of movements and of other living effects. When I now raise my arm up
above my head, I am able to do so because some of the flesh of which
my arm is composed, is changed into another kind of substance, the
moving power being set free during the change. When I feel this hard
stone which I take up in my hand, I am able to do so because some of
the substance of which my body is made, is changed into another kind of
material at the instant that I feel. This, then, is how strength comes
out of food. The food is changed into flesh, and the flesh is converted
into two distinct parts, waste substance and moving and living power.
The power was originally concealed in the food, placed there by the
provident hand of the Divine Author of Nature, in order that it might
be forthcoming for this useful service when it was required. In simple
words, material substance is destroyed in order that power may be
extracted from it. Material substance, in living bodies, is turned into
power. This is the mechanism by which God works in these, the most
wonderful of the productions of his hands.
It will hardly be necessary, after all that has been already said
elsewhere, to point out that the prime assistant of the chemist, water,
acts in the living laboratory exactly as it does in the artificial
ones. It loosens, dissolves, and mingles together the various
substances which are to act upon one another. It is in the dissolved
food, and the liquid blood, which flow into all the chambers and
vessels of the living body, and which build up in them the fibres of
living structure, and then transform and destroy those fibres, in order
that the power there stored away may be obtained.
But it is still more remarkable that the other prime assistant of
the chemist, fire, should also be employed in the living frame, in
loosening its particles, and in quickening the operation of the various
changes of substance upon which the production of power depends. It has
been shown that in the body of a full-grown man there is as much heat
produced in a single day, as would serve to make eighty pints of cold
water boil, and it has also been stated that this heat is produced in
the body exactly in the same way heat is produced in the steam engine;
that is, by the burning of fuel. The heat is set free by the change of
condition in material substance, precisely as power is procured. When
the water employed in a steam engine is made to boil, the heat that
causes the boiling issues from the coal, because that substance ceases
to be coal, and turns into smoke and vapor. Just so the fuel substance
of the body ceases to be fuel substance, starch, sugar, and fat—and
turns into vapor, which is steamed away, leaving the heat which was
concealed in the substance to warm the frame.
The furnace which is kept burning in the living laboratory, to quicken
all the operations which are being carried forward in it, and to
furnish its strength, is a slow and gentle one. It never burns quickly
enough to cause light and flame, as common fires do. The body is never
even raised to the heat of boiling water, which is far less than that
of burning coal. It is only made of blood-heat; that is, sixty-eight
degrees of the heat-scale warmer than freezing water,—in its warmest
parts. Boiling water is one hundred and eighty degrees of the same
heat-scale warmer than freezing water. The furnace of the living body
sometimes burns a little more quickly than it ought, then the body gets
warmed into fever. Occasionally it burns considerably less quickly than
it ought, then the body is chilled, and its living actions and powers
are slothful and languid. Upon the whole, however, its heat is steadily
kept up at pretty much what it ought to be, that is, at one hundred
degrees of the scale, which gives thirty-two degrees for frost.
Now this is how the furnace of the living body is kept smouldering on
in its gentle and even way. Little blasts of air are constantly puffed
in upon the burning fuel. That out-and-in play of your chest as you
breathe,—that is the puffing of air blasts into certain chambers of
your living laboratory, to keep up its smouldering fires. The more
quickly and deeply you breathe, the warmer your body becomes; and the
more slowly and softly you breathe, the colder that body remains. The
same action which blows a fresh wind through the living frame to clear
away its impure vapors, also serves to fan its hidden flames, and keep
its fuel burning. When the breathing is stopped the fires of the body
go out, just as those in a common furnace do, when their air-blasts are
arrested, and the body becomes dead cold.
You will remember that when the fresh air is drawn into your lungs
as you breathe, it enters a large quantity of little cavities or
chambers, which have, all of them, a fine net-work of the supply-pipes
stretched out upon their walls; and that as the blood rushes on in its
course through these supply-pipes, it sucks air into itself from the
air-cavities, and carries it, in its own streams, to all parts of the
living structure. Air goes with the blood to that strong force-pump,
the heart, and is then pumped out with the blood to every crevice and
fibre of the body. Every part of the body therefore receives, by means
of the supply-pipes and in the blood, heat-fanning air, as well as
supporting food.
When air reaches the living flesh and nerves, by thus flowing to them
in the blood-streams of the supply pipes, it sets up those changes
of substance in their structures which lead to the production of
movement, and feeling, and other kinds of living power. When it reaches
the dissolved fuel, contained in the blood and in the various little
furnace-chambers of the laboratory, it sets up those changes in the
fuel which lead to the production of warmth. The fuel is slowly burned
in the blood and in the chambers of the frame, and there gives out
warmth, as a fire does whilst it is burning in a grate. This warmth
consequently heats the blood, and the warm blood carries its heat
wherever it goes. The entire body thus becomes as warm as the blood, or
nearly so.
Now, where do you think all the heat originally comes from, that is
procured from burning fuel? The heat is stored away in the fuel, as
one of the ingredients of its composition, until it is burned. But
where was the heat obtained from, which is stored up in the fuel? Of
course, when the fuel was made, that heat-store had to be supplied to
it, as well as its other ingredients. First let us see when and how
the fuel was made, and perhaps we shall then be able more perfectly to
understand this matter of its warming qualities and power.
In the case of coal, it is not a very difficult task to trace the
stored-up heat to its source. But what a surprising truth it is, which
becomes apparent when the task has been performed. The heat is, so to
speak, _bottled-up sunshine_! Coal is dug up from deep mines hollowed
out in the earth. But at one time it was wood, growing on the outer
surface of the globe, and covered with foliage which was spread out
into the genial air. Traces of the leaves and stems from which it
has been made, are still discovered in its substance. Long centuries
ago, the vast forests containing these trees, were overthrown by some
tremendous earthquake, and swept away by strong floods of water, and so
the tree-stems were at last deposited in hollow basins, and were there
buried up by millions and millions of tons of heavy rock and soil.
There, where they were buried, they have remained, turning more and
more black and dense through the process of slow decay, until they have
been dug up piece-meal to feed the furnaces and fires of the existing
generation of men.
Now, you know very well that trees only grow in warm weather, and in
sunshine. In winter time their branches stick out stiff and bare, and
do not increase in the slightest degree. But in summer time they clothe
themselves with beautiful masses of foliage, and suck in from both the
air and the soil large quantities of vapor, of liquid food, and of
sunshine. All these they combine together into fresh layers of timber.
All these therefore were buried in the ground as timber, when those old
forests were overthrown which form the coal-beds. Timber cannot be made
in cold weather, because heat is one of its necessary ingredients. But
as all the warmth of the weather comes from the sun, it is the sun’s
warmth which is stored away in the coal, and which is set free and made
useful when the coal is burned.
The grand source of all warmth on the earth is that brilliant light
which God has placed in the sky to rule over the day. In a summer’s
day you sit down in the bright sunshine, and bask in its warmth.
In winter time, when the sky is covered with clouds, and ice and
snow lie thick over the ground, you place yourself indoors near the
glowing fire; but strange to say, it is still the sun’s genial warmth
that you experience. If the fire be of coal, it is warmth which was
borrowed from the sun centuries ago. Reflect for an instant upon this
marvellous arrangement entered upon, for your comfort, ages before you
were yourself called into being! When those coal-making forests spread
their broad masses of foliage out in the sunshine, there were no human
creatures existing upon the earth; and, indeed, not even the flocks
and herds, which are so essential to man’s welfare, had been framed.
Neither cattle nor sheep could have found pasture on the plains which
yielded them support. The great duty of those forests must have been to
store up genial warmth for then uncreated generations of beings, who
in due season were to appear, and to avail themselves of the provision
thus made.
But suppose that you had neither fresh nor stored-up sunshine to fall
back upon, and had to depend entirely for your warmth upon that furnace
which is carried about in your living laboratory, and kept alight by
the puffing of your breath. Still that internal heat comes originally
out of the sunshine. Just before the time when man was placed upon
the earth, the beautiful family of plants was created, which fills
the gardens with roses, and which yields the apple, the pear, the
cherry, the plum, the apricot, the peach, the almond, the strawberry,
and the raspberry. Just at the very time was planted on the globe,
the vegetable tribe which furnishes the different kinds of nourishing
grain, and which provides pasture for grazing animals. The fruits,
the grasses, and the grain were all commissioned to extract power and
warmth from the sunshine, and to store it up in such a form that the
influences could conveniently be introduced into the interior of the
living body. Living animals which are warmed by the fuel contained in
their food, procure their heat from sunshine that was stored up, as
it were, but yesterday. When animals live upon flesh, and get their
strength out of the lean fibre, and their warmth out of the fat of
this food, still it must be remembered that the flesh has been fed on
the grass of the field just before. The main office of the plant in
creation is thus to store up in a fixed and convenient form supplies
of active energies which can be turned to account by animated frames.
The plant effects this end by preparing the food upon which animals
live;—that food which, besides keeping the body in repair, serves also
to furnish it with warmth, and to give it strength and power. How
admirable and beneficent is this plan, whereby the genial influence of
life-quickening sunshine is economized and preserved for the service of
one-half of creation, by the instrumentality of the other half!
In the far distant regions of the north, there are places on the earth
to which no daylight or sunshine comes for four long months at a time.
During this gloomy period the ground goes on, from hour to hour,
scattering more and more of its heat, until it is almost as cold as the
chill space in which the great world is poised, and has indeed more
than 100 degrees of frost. The land and the water alike get covered up
by one broad and thick sheet of never-melting ice and snow. There is
not a leaf, or a grass blade, or a vegetable stalk any where in the
wide white desolation. But there are animals and human beings, who are
born and die, who maintain a prolonged existence in it. Let us just
look in upon one of the households in this drear frost land, and see
what the odd community is like.
In the midst of a broad snow waste, through which the sharp wind is
howling with a fearful sound, there is a small mound nearly covered by
the snow-drift. We perceive this mound by faint starlight, the only
gleam that comes down from the sky. A few feet away from the mound we
discover a small hole blocked up by a lump of snow. We move the lump
aside, and stretching ourselves out at full length on the ground, we
squeeze into the hole head foremost, and crawl along a narrow passage,
burrowed out in the firm snow for about a dozen feet. We then find
ourselves in a vault ten feet wide and fifteen feet long, and so low
that we can scarcely sit upright within it. This is the inside of the
mound. It is the interior of a hut, or dwelling-place, of these people
of the drear frost land. The walls of the hut are built of large stones
piled together, with a padding of frozen moss covered over them, and
with thick ice and snow covered over the moss.
There are twelve living individuals, men, women, and children, huddled
together in this close vault. They have no fire to keep them warm.
Indeed, there is neither coal nor wood which they could use to light
a fire, within many hundred miles. There is in one corner of the hut a
broad shoulder-blade of a large quadruped laid flat, and in the hollow
of this blade there is some crushed seal’s blubber, and some soft moss,
with long cotton-like rootlets. The end of the moss is burning with a
small, dull, smoky flame. This is the only artificial source of light
and warmth within the hut.
But these people are all of them almost entirely naked; and they are
dripping with perspiration, they are so warm. Outside of the hut, in
the dim starlight, the air is actually a hundred degrees colder than
freezing water. Yet inside, in the nearly as dim lamp light, there
are almost as many degrees of warmth. The air is there as hot as the
hottest summer day in England! All this heat is produced in the slow
furnaces of those twelve individuals’ own living bodies. They have lost
the sunshine for months, and everything around them is much colder
than ice. They are living upon the flesh and blubber of seals, and
sea-horses and white bears, animals which they killed before the sun
went away, the meat being kept for them through their long winter by
the preserving power of the frost. The sunshine of past away summers
has given its heat to plants; the seals and sea-horses have fed on
those plants, or upon smaller animals which have done so, and have
transferred the heat into their own blubber; and now the benighted
savages are getting the heat out of the blubber to keep their own flesh
and blood warm and unfrozen. In that close hut, where no sunshine can
come for months, the savage inmates have nevertheless abundant stores
of the warmth of sunshine, which have been laid up and preserved for
their service. Such care Providence takes even of these, the rude and
barbarous children, whose lot he has cast in the desolate outskirts of
the world!
The rude people who dwell in the cold frost-land of the north, remain
warm through their long, severe winter, without the aid of artificial
fires, because they economize the warmth which is produced in the slow
furnaces of their bodies, and prevent it from being scattered away as
quickly as it is generated. If they were to set themselves down in the
open air, instead of in their close huts, the warmth produced in their
bodies would be thrown off from the outer surfaces of these as fast as
it was set free from the fuel. In the close huts, on the other hand,
this warmth first heats the air contained within the stone walls, and
is then a very long time in getting any further, and so prevents more
heat from being rapidly scattered from the internal furnace.
These human inhabitants of the northern ice land have a companion in
their desolate haunts, who does not build himself a hut after their
fashion, but who has instead a somewhat similar protection against
the severe cold of the long northern winter, provided by nature. This
creature goes upon four legs, sometimes swimming in the water, and
sometimes stalking along upon the ice. He is very powerful and fierce,
is armed with sharp claws two inches long, and has teeth which can bite
through thick and hard metal. He is able to tear iron and tin to pieces
as if they were merely paper or pasteboard, and he feeds upon seals,
birds, foxes and deer, which he manages to catch by his cunning and
address. This savage creature is often killed by the rude natives, who
hunt him with dogs and spears, but in the absence of man he is the fell
tyrant of the domain. He prowls about on the snow-wastes, destroying
every living body which comes within his reach; and he remains exposed
to the severest cold of the long dark winter, lying upon the ice and
snow, without having his life-blood frozen by its chill power. The
reason of his safety is that he wears a nature-provided great coat of
very warm fur. His skin is every where covered by long shaggy hair of
a yellowish-white color, which has a thick down-like under-growth
closely packed beneath. This coat of soft fur is so long and thick,
that it prevents the heat produced in the slow furnace of his body from
escaping into the cold air. It answers the same purpose to him, that
the snow-covered hut does to his human neighbors.
Men have no warm shaggy coats of this kind furnished for their use
by nature, but they are enabled to supply the deficiency through the
exertion of their own intelligence and ingenuity. They borrow warm
covering from other creatures whenever they stand in need of such aid.
Thus the rude human inhabitant of the ice land hunts and kills the
bear and then before he feasts upon its flesh, he strips the fur robe
from the carcass, and adapts it to his own naked body. So soon as the
northern ice-people come out from their huts into the cold air, they
put on coats and trousers of bear-skin, with the long sharp claws
pointing out as toes to their boots. These odd savages look almost like
small bears themselves when their white fur hoods are drawn over their
heads, and their limbs are compactly muffled up in the claw-tipped
robes which they have taken from the bodies of their prey.
Men in civilized lands do not put the skins of other animals upon their
own bodies, but they do what is precisely the same thing in effect.
They borrow silk from the worm, or cotton from the grass, or flax from
the linen-plant, or wool from the sheep, and by their constructive
skill, they spin and weave these substances into cloths, which are
much more convenient than raw skins for the fabrication of garments,
and which can be made as warm, when this is required. In every case,
however, this artificial clothing acts in the same way as natural fur.
It is warm, because it prevents the heat, which is produced in the slow
furnace within the body from escaping quickly from the little chambers
of the living laboratory. Clothing does not really warm the body, it
merely keeps it warm; prevents it from being cooled as it would be if
this covering were not placed between its surface and the outer air.
Warm bodies constantly grow colder, when situated in spaces which are
more chill than themselves, provided always that there be no furnaces,
quick or slow, within them, for generating new supplies of heat. They
do so, because they give the excess of heat which they contain to the
neighboring space, in the attempt to make it as warm as themselves.
Warm bodies are always very generous, and disinclined to keep what
substances near to them are less freely supplied with. If a metallic
pint pot, filled with boiling water, be placed on the ground in air
which has only the warmth of a March English day—some fifty degrees
of the heat scale,—the water gets colder minute by minute until it
remains no warmer than the air and ground which are around it. The
rapidity with which warm bodies are cooled depends upon how much colder
than themselves the space around them is. If one pint pot of boiling
water be placed in out-of-door air that is cold as freezing water, and
another be placed at the same time in a room where the air has the
warmth of a mild summer day, the former will be deprived of all its
excess of heat much sooner than the latter.
Warm bodies lose their excess of heat in two ways. They shoot it off
into surrounding space. This is what learned men call “raying” or
“radiating” it away. The sun, you know, shoots or rays its heat off to
the earth, and so does the fire to your body when you stand before it.
But warm bodies also communicate their heat to substances which touch
them, provided those substances be colder than themselves. Place your
hand upon a cold metal knob, and you will feel that your hand grows
colder as it gives portions of its heat to the knob. This is what
learned men call “conveying” heat.
[To be concluded.]
A TOUR ROUND THE WORLD.
By MRS. MARY LOW DICKINSON.
[Continued.]
Away from Boulogne-sur-Mer,—away from the treacherous sea, that laughs,
as we look back upon it, tossing its white caps mischievously up to the
smiling sky; away from thoughts of Thackeray, who has left the wide
stretches of coast around Boulogne haunted by Claude Newcombe’s ghost,
and on as fast as the “boat-train” can take us to the place where, some
one has said, “good Americans go when they die.”
There is nothing interesting in the tame, flat country; nothing novel
in the farm houses, and thatched cottages, and sleepy-looking villages
along the route, or in the general aspect of the people, except that
the bonnet of the English peasant is replaced by the snowy cap, the
frock of the English farmer by the Frenchman’s clean blue blouse. The
English fog keeps its own side of the channel, and we look up into the
blue sky, radiant with sunshine, with a sense of having found an old
long-absent friend. Long before we arrive in Paris, even the staunchest
Briton of us all marvels why she wanted to stay in London, when here,
just over the water, lay this smiling and beautiful France.
And to us, as to most strangers, Paris and France are one. We shall
see none of its other cities unless, moving southward, we stop at
Lyons, and linger a day at Marseilles. Provincial life will come to us
only in the city’s borrowed attire, as we find it in Paris, imported,
and making itself at home. Nature and natural scenery can do little
to captivate unless, indeed, we enter Italy by the pass of Mont
Cenis, when we shall see what it is, even to a frivolous people like
the French, to “lift their eyes unto the hills.” Ordinarily, nature
seems here at a disadvantage, a pale, flat background for the intense
artificiality of France. Her rivers seem to wind—the sluggish Seine
with the rest—to show the architectural effect of her bridges, rather
than to make the green banks blossom and to refresh the thirsty land.
Her forests, even Fontainebleau and Versailles, what are they but
the background for palaces? And even her wide, straight, dusty roads
stretch on with a dreadful symmetry of commonplaceness that makes one
feel as if the land had no lovely nooks, to reach which one must choose
a shaded or winding way.
Once in the city, and this impression of the extreme of artificial life
deepens. Everything—streets, dwellings, shops, squares, fountains,
monuments—has been made as fine as it well could be; but all has been
made, nothing has been let to grow; and in the monotony of construction
one longs to see something that reveals individuality in its maker
or itself. Humanity has the same stamp, and it is only the intense
vivacity common to its various national types that gives the pleasing
sense of variety. Dress, habit, bearing, manners, are singularly
after one style, a better one in some respects, we will admit, than
we have as yet found time to cultivate. In minor manners this is most
noticeable. The ready “good morning,” and “thank you,” are on the lips
of every servant and child, and the prompt “beg pardon” reconciles one
to an occasional rudeness or lack of care. It is only fair to say,
however, that in a crowd where an American might tread on one’s toes
and never say a word, yet be most careful not to repeat the offence,
the Frenchman would politely “beg pardon,” and while replacing the
lifted hat, tread on the unlucky toes again. Still, there is something
flattering to vanity in the easy deference that makes the waiter help
you on with your overcoat with an air that thanks you for permitting
him the honor, and the wheels of the traveler’s life do run more
smoothly for the lubricating of French good manners. How mightily it
helps the sales in the inevitable round of shopping that beguiles all
womankind in Paris,—except of course, Chautauquans, good and true.
American tradesmen might well learn a lesson here, and by practice
take to themselves many a reluctant dollar that now stays pocket-safe,
because of the gruffness or superciliousness of some airy clerk. But of
all places, Paris needs no such addition as courtesy to the attractive
seductions which her tasteful displays of beautiful things offer to the
foreign purse. Her shop windows alone would draw one’s money up from
the depths of the pocket, through the bewitchment of the eye. No matter
how small the window, no matter how hideous the name of the shop—and
these are of all names, from “Good Angel” to “Good Devil”—the very most
and best is made of the goods to charm the eye and cause the passer’s
step to halt. Halting, he is sure to enter; entering, he is sure to
buy, and lucky the man or woman who escapes with a few lone rattling
sous as _pour boire_ for the cabman whom he hails to drive him home.
One never knows what a magnificent creature a poor mortal can become,
nor has a realizing sense of his capacity for enjoying “things,” till
he has been set loose in the streets of this alluring world’s bazar.
Things! He, the traveler—or, possibly _she_—becomes possessed by a
demon for which there is no other name than “things.” Things to eat,
things to wear, things to hide away, things to give away, things to
take home,—there is no end to it after it is once begun. People go out,
meaning to buy nothing, and buy everything, until the playful remark of
an American author that “Paris is a great sweating furnace, in which
human beings would turn life everlasting into gold, provided it were of
negotiable value,” seems not so far from true. Thankful indeed might be
the traveler, Chautauquan or other, who, unable to gratify temptation,
escapes it, as only it can be escaped, by filling the time so full that
there are left no hours for the loitering amid lovely and alluring
things. Virtuous, very virtuous, indeed, no doubt, was our quartette in
this prudent regard. “Why should they care for shining and insidious
vanities of to-day,” asked the student, “with historical Paris, and
ecclesiastical Paris, and monumental Paris, and artistic Paris, with
Paris, living and dead, past and present, lying about, in unctuous
abundance, waiting to be rolled in sweet morsels under their tongues?”
“Why, indeed?” echoed the other three, as on the night of arrival they
went rattling in a four-seated cab, in which two lolled comfortably
back and indulged in exclamations of delight over the brilliant city,
blazing with its thousand lights, and gay with moving throngs, and the
other two hung on the edge of the narrow shelf called a front seat, and
longed for annihilation as to knees that there might be room for big
basket, little basket, bundles and bags.
One night only for them in a large hotel in the American quarter,
with the Grand Opera House before their windows, and a dozen hotels
all crowded with Americans, within a quarter of a mile. Silently the
sisters sit in a reception room about as large as a comfortable hall
bed-room, while the student adds their names to the very long list
of Americans in the register in the office, a little den just large
enough for a double desk. Then a porter, once a black-haired, brawny
Breton peasant in the ever-lasting blue blouse, swings a trunk upon
his shoulder, gathers up in one hand all the umbrellas and bags, which
it took four of us to bring, and the _concierge_, from her own little
den at the foot of the staircase, hands forth our keys with a smile
that is purely French and means nothing, yet says plainer than words
that she has been longing all day for our coming, and is so relieved
that we are safely arrived at last. Cheered by its welcome, hollow
though we know it to be, we mount the easy stairs behind the Breton
and the baggage. Number fifty, one, two and three, calls the clerk to
a frisky chambermaid in white apron and cap, and away she goes before
with her white cap-strings flying, down the corridor. Why such speed?
we question, but not for long. There are four rooms, and each room has
from four to six candles—candles on bureau, mantle and table, “candles
to right of us, candles to left of us, candles behind us glimmered
and sputtered.” With incredible celerity the white-capped maid had
lighted them all. Lights are an extra in France, and when we go away
to-morrow we shall find them all upon the bill, and for eighteen
_bougies_ it will be our duty to pay. Americans have been found, soon
after our civil war, when the spirit of strife was not yet quelled,
courageous enough to resist the candle swindle, and women prudent
enough to take all they paid for, and to bear them away, rolled in bits
of _Galignani’s Messenger_, and tucked in with the best black silk.
But the world still waits for the great spirit that shall successfully
grapple the _bougie_ fraud. Our quartette, I am ashamed to say, tamely
submitted, the sisters unable to get the right proportions of sweetness
and light on the subject, and the brethren remarking that some games
were not worth the candles, and some candles were not worth the game.
Still the rather luminous exhibition of what it would be likely to cost
them to dwell in this particular quarter, helped them to see their
way out, and before night of the second day they answered the tender
parting smile of madame, the _concierge_, each with a touching franc,
and saw their luggage in a pyramid on the top of a two-seated _voiture
de place_, the brethren shrunken as to knees, to the space allotted in
front of their little shelf, and away they went to dine in their little
cosy sitting room of an apartment far out in the suburb of Passy,
beyond the city bounds, where they paid for the parlor and bed-rooms
and service less per month than it would cost for one room at any of
the grand hotels.
And here they lived as nearly as possible the life of the French home.
Abandoning soon the hearty American breakfast, the student learned that
the brain worked well during the morning hours on its cup of coffee and
its share,—a yard if you like, for bread can be bought by the yard—of
bread. And away out here in Passy they found their servant, the good
old woman who owned the house, yet waited upon them with her own hands,
had not yet learned the trick of the hotels and cafés frequented by
foreigners, but still gave them coffee such as we read about as found
in Paris in “ye olden time.” In common with nearly all French families,
she frequented every morning the coffee-shops scattered at convenient
distances throughout the whole city, and selected her coffee in just
the quantity required for the day, from the freshly-roasted mass, and
saw it ground and mixed before her eyes. The custom is to combine three
kinds of coffee—one for strength, and two for flavor, for the morning
use. Then it is neither smoked, drenched nor boiled until the result is
an injurious decoction, but, placed in its perforated cup, just boiling
water enough is poured upon it to swell every grain and force it to
yield up its delicious first aroma; then again and again is the bath
repeated, until a half a teacupful will be all the coffee prepared for
a household. Now, to a tablespoonful or two of this beverage she adds
a cup of milk, heated almost to a boiling point, and the liquid is fit
for a king. Quite another affair is the _café noir_, made usually by
boiling the residue of the breakfast coffee, and religiously let alone
by the occupants of many French homes. Out of doors, after coffee,
for two or three good hours of work in museums, and galleries, and
palaces, and churches, and streets, wherever the city offered anything
to be enjoyed or learned, and then back to breakfast at twelve o’clock
in the day, a meal of meats and vegetables, salads and sweets,—a
dinner really in all but soup and a name. Dinner at six, cooked by
the owner of the rooms, served by her daughter, a black-eyed, tidy
girl of seventeen, comprised the _menu_ of the home. This was varied
by an occasional raid upon the American gingerbread at the bakery of
the Boulevard Malesherbes, or a visit to restaurants, where, at any
price from thirty cents to a dollar and a half, according to location
and appointments, one can be sure of a dinner, appetizing, clean,
well-served, abundant, and so, whether one sits under the arches of the
old historic Palais Royale, and takes history with his soup, and blends
the gay kaleidoscopic throng before his eyes with the throngs that have
filled the court in other days, or chooses his seat under the gilt
and crystal of the glittering Boulevard des Italians, or boards at a
pension at ten francs a day, and finds himself in a mitigated American
boarding-house, where he puts a sou in the charity plate as a forfeit
for every word of English spoken, or runs around in the Rue Neuve de
Petit Champs, and consoles his patriotism by fish-balls and buckwheat
cakes, or lets some kind, shrewd old woman buy and cook his chop,
piously pilfering regularly her two sous a pound, there is no need to
go hungry in Paris. Alas, that so much can not be said for the poorer
classes of Parisians themselves, the laborers under whose lack of bread
wrongs long suffered have so often ripened to revolutions. Let no one
suppose the stimulating coffee, daintily prepared, is the drink of the
laboring man of France. Happy is he who gets it once a week, and the
common food on which the laborer works is soup, in which the meat is
ordinarily scant enough, and the bread,—of which he can not always take
as much as he would like and leave a portion of the loaf for the little
ones at home;—a piece of bread with a bit of sausage, when he can
afford it, makes the meal that marks the noonday pause in labor, and
gives the more fortunate his _dejeuner a la fourchette_. In no city in
the world is there more destitution than in Paris among the unfortunate
and the deserving poor. The surface of its social life is kept so
whitened that one forgets that it is like the sepulcher of Holy Writ.
Only now and then, on some grand holiday, when misery may seem only a
farce, only a fantastic spectacle in a pageant, is squalor’s want and
beggary allowed to see the light. At all other times, the beggar’s hand
must hold something to sell, and the reality of want be treated as if
it were sham, and crime be made to feel ashamed of nothing but the
day. With the slow-coming change in public opinion, on all questions
of philanthropy and morals, with the slow-coming emancipation of
education, with the slow-coming freedom from priestcraft and the growth
of true religious sentiment in France, there must dawn a brighter day
for the masses, those enormous majorities who make the under strata of
the nation’s life. That it is volcanic strata, with a heart of fire
that now and then heaves with its gigantic throbs the upper world, and
sends forth the low rumble of suppressed lava-floods and the dull smoke
of threatening revolution, is no marvel to any student of the past
history and present social and moral and political conditions of France.
But it is not in these undercurrents that control national destiny
that we can afford to drift our little tourist bark. What ought to be
done, one can but vaguely feel; of what is being done, one may have a
faint glimpse who will follow the history of the Protestant movement,
and make himself acquainted with the missions in the city of Paris
alone. I doubt if it would do to take our quartette too near the heart
of this work, since some of them, at least, would never be willing
to come away. And we can never let them leave Paris without a sight
of the wonders that everybody sees. From Passy they make daily their
_entree_ into the city by the Avenue de la Grande Armee, and pass
under the great Arc de Triomphe, that stands, the largest triumphal
arch in the world, in the center of the beautiful Place de l’Etoile,
from which branch like the points to a star the new beautiful avenues
cut by Napoleon III in every direction, straight through miles of the
most populous portions of the city. Climb the arch, a massive pile
of stone larger than our largest churches, and let the eye run down
the star-points. Here on the right is the most beautiful of all, the
Avenue de l’Imperatrice, over three hundred feet wide, and extending
to the Bois de Boulogne, the Central Park of Paris. Down this drive
on any Saturday morning one may see many a cab containing a groom and
bride of humble station, she in her white dress and orange wreath,
going out to spend the wedding day walking and talking, and feasting
at one of the many restaurants in the beautiful wood. A little earlier
in the day, in the Madelaine, one might see the marriage ceremony
performed. Our travelers chanced on one sunny morning to find a bride
and groom before one altar, a coffin in the aisle, while at the font
a priest was baptising a little child. Down this avenue to the Bois,
all the finest equipages of the pleasure-lovers of Paris drift every
day, and especially every Sunday. On Sunday occur the races and the
military reviews. In the mornings the churches are thinly peopled with
worshippers, principally women; in the afternoon the city is alive with
pleasure seekers of every class. Yet let no one imagine Paris given
to pleasure to be what New York or Chicago under the same conditions
might be—noisy, uproarious, or rude. Everybody on the brilliant,
crowded boulevards, in the Bois, all down the whole length of the
Champs Elysees, is decorous, moderate, well dressed and well behaved.
The whirligigs laden with little children whirl softly; even Punch and
Judy, never-failing delight of childhood, are not too noisy in their
quarrels. The cabmen drowse on their boxes, the horses go at a slow and
steady jog. On the sidewalks the people sip their ices or their soda.
There is animation, vivacity, but no rush or scramble or haste such
as marks not only our work-a-day; but our holiday life. It is on the
boulevards and the Champs Elysees that French leisure and pleasure may
be seen at their best.
This wonderful Champs Elysees lies before one who stands at the Place
de l’Etoile, in its whole length of more than two miles from the Arc
de Triomphe to the beautiful Tuilleries gardens. In the daytime it
is all foliage and sunshine and brightness; at night the gas-lights
glitter in unbroken chains from tree to tree. From one end we can
see the fountains play at the other, as they sparkle all day in the
square by the old Egyptian obelisk, that marks the place of the
guillotine, the memory of which changes all the brightness to gloom
in the space of a single thought. Beyond, the half-ruined piles of
the Tuilleries palace stand up gray and grim, as if they had not yet
recovered from the astonishment and shock of their blows. Further still
rise the palace and gallery of the Louvre, which some one has aptly
called “the first and last fascination of Paris.” We would make the
fascinations plural, and include the Luxembourg gallery, which, though
smaller, holds no second place in the Parisian world of art. Let no
one fancy our tourists saw the Louvre in a day, or can write of it
in a paragraph. What one finds there depends on what one carries in
of technical knowledge, in intelligent apprehension, in sympathetic
insight and appreciation. Words are not the medium for the description
of pictures, or for the transmission of the sense of beauty. One
should go to the Louvre once, at least, thinking of the building only.
Remember that if it and the adjoining Tuilleries palace were extended
their full length along the Seine, we should walk a mile to pass them.
Once within, and relieved of our umbrellas, lest we forget ourselves
and inadvertently “poke” some antique marble warrior, or try the point
upon some crumbling mummy, we climb innumerable stairs and walk over
acres of slippery, polished floors, and through rooms heavy with
gilded decoration, burdened with every adornment that wealth or taste
could devise. The lower floors are devoted to libraries, to Egyptian,
Assyrian, and Greek museums, and the upper to room after room of
paintings, where one wanders at first aimless and bewildered, like a
child whose Christmas riches leave it unknowing what first to enjoy.
One or two sauntering visits like this, and the great pictures begin to
come out from the mass, and we know which are those which belong to us
by some subtle power of entering into their significance which we feel,
but can not define. Then one by one they begin to lay a touch upon us,
and draw us back again and again, for just one other look. How, after
a little, our eyes let go, as our souls do also, of nine-tenths of the
pictures, those with which we have been able to establish no line of
communication, which may be, and are, doubtless, fine, only they are
not for us. Then how we yield ourselves to the touch of those that
have reached us through their greatness, that could not be resisted.
Then we feel the pathos of Triosa’s “Burial,” and the passion of
despair in the writhing forms and agonized faces of his “Deluge.” Then
we feel the strength in the masterpieces of David, and the exquisite
delicacy and suffering and resolve in the “Ecce Homo” of Guido. Here
Raphael’s genius shines upon us in the seraphic sweetness of the “Holy
Family,” and Veronese’s “Marriage of Cana,” with its beauty of form
and richness of color, and marvelous vigor of conception. And here is
the mysterious, half-triumphant, half-timid, grace and beauty of “The
Conception,” by Murillo. The longer one lingers, the more one dreads to
hear the voice of the guard who calls out the time to close, and when
the spell is fairly on one who loves art, he will pass from Louvre to
Luxembourg, and back again from Luxembourg to Louvre, unheeding the
great, gay, bustling world that is surging up and down between. At the
smaller gallery, modern art and living artists are better represented
than at the Louvre. Look here for De la Roche and Rosa Bonheur, and
if the horrors of the French Revolution are not already coming up too
often, as you pass about the city, dwell upon the anguished faces of
the prisoners in the picture called “The Night Before Execution,”
and I can promise you an afternight of troubled sleep. How gladly
one turns from its horrors to the calm, sad strength in the face of
the Christ in Ary Scheffer’s “Temptation,” rejoicing in the grand
expression the artist has given to the power before which ultimately
shall shrink back all the pain of the world, all the horrors and shames
of sin. Between the thick walls of her silent galleries, and in the
hushed air of her churches, one who had time could find a wealth of
association, historical and other, that would enrich weeks spent in
their examination alone.
But we cannot see all, and we can linger in but very few. We must go to
the Hotel des Invalides, under whose dome lie in solemn splendor the
remains of Napoleon I. We must stand for a moment, at least, in the
spots made interesting by associations with history that can never be
forgotten. Who would not go out of his way, for example, to hear for a
few strokes the bell of St. Germain L’Auxerrois, when he remembers that
it gave the midnight signal for the massacre of St. Bartholomew? Who
would not seek his opportunities to sit for a while under the towers
of Notre Dame, or behind the porches of the Madelaine, or to rest in
the rustic chapel behind the high altar of St. Roche? Here, as they
should be everywhere, the churches are open all day long. The busy
mother of a family on her way to market, may come in and, dropping her
basket on the floor, kneel and pray for patience and strength for her
round of common care. The world-weary soul may creep into the shadow
of some high column, or kneel at some dim altar, and find the rest he
craves. It is, at least, a spot to escape for a while into blessed
stillness from the wearing turmoil of the world, and forgetting the
papal altars, and the tinsel, and the gaudy images of the Virgin, and
caricatures of angels, and remembering the great sea of human sin and
sorrow surging forever beyond, the stranger can but be glad that the
gates stand open wide.
Little time have we to linger in the most interesting, but we must
surely go out to the church of St. Denis and see where, for thirteen
hundred years, France has laid her royal dead. It is a drive of only
five miles, and that is only a fair walk for some of our number, who
would enjoy walking it every step alone, and calling up out of the past
a procession of priests and courtiers bearing a dead king to his rest.
Alas, that so many of them blessed France on the day they were borne to
St. Denis more than in all their long, luxurious lives.
And to St. Denis is not the only little excursion that must be made
from Paris. We cannot turn our faces southward without having visited
Fontainebleau, and having had at least a long bright day in the palace
of Versailles.
For the former excursion, only thirty-five miles from Paris, a day may
be taken, though a charming little hotel outside the wood will tempt
one to linger for a night, and thus secure an uninterrupted day for
visiting the palace, strolling about the grounds, or driving in the
charming roads through the forest.
The entire nine hundred apartments of the palace are not open for
inspection, but at twelve o’clock daily a guide gathers up the waiting
visitors and drives them like a flock of sheep through the apartments,
many of them beautiful and sumptuous in adornment, and some neglected
and forlorn. We entered by the Court of the White Horse, or the Court
of Adieux, as it has been called since the time when Napoleon I there
bade farewell to the remnant of his old guard before his departure for
Elba. His bed-room, said to be in the same state as when he left it,
and the table on which he signed his abdication, naturally claim the
attention of all strollers through these halls. Within there is the
jargon of the chattering people, who feel of the draperies as they pass
warily over the slippery floors, the autocratic twang of the guide who
means to hold us to his story until he gets us safely through and out
at the door with our francs snugly stored away in his pocket. Outside
there are lovely gardens and grounds, but cabmen beset us to drive in
the forest, and once there, produce a new waterfall, or a high rock,
or a rustic bridge, anything, everything, that a sixty-mile forest
can afford for which a _pour boire_ can be extracted. On the whole,
we are ready on the second afternoon to return to Paris, and equally
ready on the very next day to take the train for Versailles. It is
only a little journey; we are there almost before we seem started,
and in company with many other strangers, a few French families out
for a day’s holiday, and many earnest talking deputies _en route_ to
the Assembly, we go up in the omnibus through the town, which now
fairly hugs the palace gates, to the entrance of the great court, and
before us lies the enormous but not imposing pile of the Palace of
Versailles. Everybody who has never seen it knows it through pictures.
We need not even quote the guide-books, and say that the great palace
is over a quarter of a mile long, and cost France in money two hundred
millions of dollars, to say nothing of what it cost in after-suffering
to the nation and to the descendants of the king who built it as a
magnificent monument to his vanity and ambition. We all know what
part the Revolution played in it, and also that no government since
the Revolution could take the enormous expense of using it as a royal
residence. Hence, in the time of Louis Phillipe it became a grand
museum, and to-day the visitor, after exhausting himself in the effort
to traverse some of the miles of walks to see the grounds, traverses
miles of corridors and apartments lined with pictures, principally of
French battles, and dedicated to all the glories of France. To Marie
Antoinette the place of most tragic interest, to Louis Phillipe and
Louis Napoleon it was simply a museum, and to France it has come to
be, after the humiliation of seeing the German emperor encamped here,
the seat of her new government and the stronghold of the power of the
Republic.
The place of meeting of the National Assembly is in the former theater
of the palace, and if one is so fortunate as to have a friend among the
deputies, there is no difficulty in securing admission to any session.
Ordinarily, guests are shown to boxes, from which they can look down
upon the seven hundred representative men of France. The President’s
seat is at one end of the hall, with before him a tribune, or platform,
from which the deputies speak. On the right of the speaker are the
Royalists, including Legitimists, Orleanists, and Imperialists, and on
the left the Republicans. Besides these two grand divisions, there are
the minor divisions of the Right and Left Center, the former wishing a
constitutional monarchy, and the latter a conservative republic. One
should visit the Assembly more than once to bring away anything beyond
a confused sense of much animated gesticulation, violent discussion,
often rising into a frenzy of speech and movement only equalled by the
excitement of the Bourse. Calm talk grows to an apparent tempest of
speech, for which there is no control, until it subsides of itself.
Those familiar with emotional French manner will tell us that it
all means nothing serious; that, notwithstanding this turmoil, all
important questions are calmly discussed in party councils before they
are submitted to public debate, and that the excitement is only the
natural outlet of irrepressible human nature as it exists in sunny
France. And it matters little with what petty bluster or serious
throes she does it, if, out of her agitations, the nation comes, as
she seems to be slowly doing, into larger light and truer liberty,
into the grand freedom of self-control. Once there, revolutions will
cease to be chronic, and regeneration, begun in the governmental
center, may permeate the spiritual and intellectual, and ultimately
reach even the corruption of the social life. Any influence that tends
toward this, however convulsive in its action, must be welcomed by the
thinking world. In her transformed palaces and half deserted churches
one can but think on these things, forgetting that our business is
for the present to observe and not to think. There is small time
now for processes of thought, and none for opinions or conclusions.
Three-quarters of the globe is before us, and even bewildering,
bewitching France must be left behind.
[To be continued.]
“WE MUST NOT FORGET OUR DEAD.”
By MARY R. D. DINGWALL.
“So many of our students are in middle and after middle
life; the death rate is, therefore, unusually large.”
“I will have them be with me where I am,”
Says Christ of his sainted ones;
And we give them up with sorrowing hearts,
When the Master’s summons comes.
Fold we the hands, though tasks at which they wrought
May be but half completed;
And we press the lips with a solemn thought
Of the last words they repeated.
“I will have them be with me where I am,”
Says he who o’er Lazarus wept;
And with tears we lay our loved ones away,
To sleep as Lazarus slept.
And we take up the tasks they left undone,
Sing songs they would be singing,
While we run with patience the race they run,
Bring sheaves as they were bringing.
TALES FROM SHAKSPERE.
By CHARLES LAMB.
KING LEAR.
Lear, King of Britain, had three daughters; Gonerill, wife to the Duke
of Albany; Regan, wife to the Duke of Cornwall; and Cordelia, a young
maid, for whose love the King of France and Duke of Burgundy were joint
suitors, and were at this time making stay for that purpose in the
court of Lear.
The old king, worn out with age and the fatigues of government, he
being more than fourscore years old, determined to take no further part
in state affairs, but to leave the management to younger strengths,
that he might have time to prepare for death, which must at no long
period ensue. With this intent he called his three daughters to him, to
know from their own lips which of them loved him best, that he might
part his kingdom among them in such proportions as their affection for
him should seem to deserve.
Gonerill, the eldest, declared that she loved her father more than
words could give out, that he was dearer to her than the light of her
own eyes, dearer than life and liberty, with a deal of such professing
stuff, which is easy to counterfeit where there is no real love, only a
few fine words delivered with confidence being wanted in that case. The
king, delighted to hear from her own mouth this assurance of her love,
and thinking truly that her heart went with it, in a fit of fatherly
fondness bestowed upon her and her husband one third of his ample
kingdom.
Then calling to him his second daughter, he demanded what she had to
say. Regan, who was made of the same hollow metal as her sister, was
not a whit behind in her professions; but rather declared that what
her sister had spoken came short of the love which she professed to
bear for his highness; insomuch that she found all other joys dead, in
comparison with the pleasure which she took in the love of her dear
king and father. Lear blest himself in having such loving children,
as he thought; and could do no less, after the handsome assurances
which Regan had made, than bestow a third of his kingdom upon her and
her husband, equal in size to that which he had already given away to
Gonerill.
Then turning to his youngest daughter Cordelia, whom he called his joy,
he asked what she had to say; thinking no doubt that she would glad
his ears with the same loving speeches which her sisters had uttered,
or rather that her expressions would be so much stronger than theirs,
as she had always been his darling, and favored by him above either of
them. But Cordelia, disgusted with the flattery of her sisters, whose
hearts she knew were far from their lips, and seeing that all their
coaxing speeches were only intended to wheedle the old king out of his
dominions, that they and their husbands might reign in his life-time,
made no other reply but this, that she loved his majesty according to
her duty, neither more nor less. The king, shocked with this appearance
of ingratitude in his favorite child, desired her to consider her
words, and to mend her speech, lest it should mar her fortunes.
Cordelia then told her father, that he was her father, that he had
given her breeding, and loved her, that she returned those duties
back as was most fit, and did obey him, love him, and most honor him.
But that she could not frame her mouth to such large speeches as her
sisters had done, or promise to love nothing else in the world. Why had
her sisters husbands, if (as they said) they had no love for anything
but their father? If she should ever wed, she was sure the lord to whom
she gave her hand would want half her love, half of her care and duty:
she should never marry like her sisters, to love her father all.
Cordelia, who in earnest loved her old father, even almost as
extravagantly as her sisters pretended to do, would have plainly told
him so at any other time, in more daughter-like and loving terms,
and without these qualifications, which did indeed sound a little
ungracious: but after the crafty flattering speeches of her sisters,
which drew such extravagant rewards, she thought the handsomest thing
she could do was to love and be silent. This put her affection out of
suspicion of mercenary ends, and showed that she loved, but not for
gain: and that her professions, the less ostentatious they were, had so
much the more of truth and sincerity than her sisters’.
This plainness of speech, which Lear called pride, so enraged the old
monarch—who in his best of times always showed much of spleen and
rashness, and in whom the dotage incident to old age had so clouded
over his reason, that he could not discern truth from flattery, nor a
gay painted speech from words that came from the heart—that in a fury
of resentment he retracted the third part of his kingdom which he had
reserved for Cordelia, and gave it away from her, sharing it equally
between her two sisters, and their husbands, the Dukes of Albany
and Cornwall; whom he now called to him, and in presence of all his
courtiers, bestowing a coronet between them, invested them jointly with
all the power, revenue, and execution of government, only retaining
to himself the name of king; all the rest of royalty he resigned:
with this reservation, that himself, with a hundred knights for his
attendants, was to be maintained by monthly course in each of his
daughters’ palaces in turn.
So preposterous a disposal of his kingdom, so little guided by reason,
and so much by passion, filled all his courtiers with astonishment and
sorrow; but none of them had the courage to interpose between this
incensed king and his wrath, except the Earl of Kent, who was beginning
to speak a good word for Cordelia, when the passionate Lear on pain
of death commanded him to desist; but the good Kent was not so to be
repelled. He had been ever loyal to Lear, whom he had honored as a
king, loved as a father, followed as a master; and had never esteemed
his life further than as a pawn to wage against his royal master’s
enemies, nor feared to lose it when Lear’s safety was the motive; nor
now that Lear was most his own enemy did this faithful servant of the
king forget his old principles, but manfully opposed Lear, to do Lear
good; and was unmannerly only because Lear was mad. He had been a most
faithful counselor in times past to the king, and he besought him
now, that he would see with his eyes (as he had done in many weighty
matters), and go by his advice still, and in his best consideration
recall this hideous rashness; for he would answer with his life, his
judgment, that Lear’s youngest daughter did not love him least, nor
were those empty-hearted whose low sound gave no token of hollowness.
When power bowed to flattery, honor was bound to plainness. For Lear’s
threats, what could he do to him, whose life was already at his
service, that should not hinder duty from speaking?
The honest freedom of this good Earl of Kent only stirred up the king’s
wrath the more, and like a frantic patient who kills his physician, and
loves his mortal disease, he banished his true servant, and allotted
him but five days to make his preparations for departure; but if on
the sixth his hated person was found within the realm of Britain, that
moment was to be his death. And Kent bade farewell to the king, and
said, that since he chose to show himself in such a fashion, it was but
banishment to stay there; and before he went he recommended Cordelia to
the protection of the gods, the maid who had so rightly thought, and
so discreetly spoken; and only wished that her sisters’ large speeches
might be answered with deeds of love; and then he went, as he said, to
shape his old course to a new country.
The King of France and Duke of Burgundy were now called in to hear the
determination of Lear about his youngest daughter, and to know whether
they would persist in their courtship to Cordelia, now that she was
under her father’s displeasure, and had no fortune but her own person
to recommend her. The Duke of Burgundy declined the match, and would
not take her to wife upon such conditions; but the King of France,
understanding what the nature of the fault had been which had lost her
the love of her father, that it was only a tardiness of speech, and the
not being able to frame her tongue to flattery like her sisters, took
this young maid by the hand, and saying that her virtues were a dowry
above a kingdom, bade Cordelia to take farewell of her sisters, and of
her father, though he had been unkind, and she should go with him, and
be queen of him and of fair France, and reign over fairer possessions
than her sisters: and he called the Duke of Burgundy in contempt a
waterish duke, because his love for this young maid had in a moment run
all away like water.
Then Cordelia, with weeping eyes, took leave of her sisters and
besought them to love their father well, and make good their
professions; and they sullenly told her not to prescribe to them for
they knew their duty, but to strive to content her husband, who had
taken her (as they tauntingly expressed it) as Fortune’s alms. And
Cordelia with a heavy heart departed, for she knew the cunning of her
sisters, and she wished her father in better hands than she was about
to leave him in.
Cordelia was no sooner gone than the devilish dispositions of her
sisters began to show themselves in their true colors. Even before the
expiration of the first month, which Lear was to spend by agreement
with his eldest daughter, Gonerill, the old king began to find out the
difference between promises and performances. This wretch, having got
from her father all that he had to bestow, even to the giving away of
the crown from off his head, began to grudge even those small remnants
of royalty which the old man had reserved to himself, to please his
fancy with the idea of being still a king. She could not bear to see
him and his hundred knights. Every time she met her father, she put on
a frowning countenance; and when the old man wanted to speak with her,
she would feign sickness, or anything to be rid of the sight of him;
for it was plain that she esteemed his old age a useless burden, and
his attendants an unnecessary expense. Not only she herself slackened
in her expressions of duty to the king, but by her example, and (it is
to be feared) not without her private instructions, her very servants
treated him with neglect, and would refuse to obey his orders, or
still more contemptuously pretend not to hear them. Lear could not
but perceive this alteration in the behavior of his daughter, but
he shut his eyes against it as long as he could, as people commonly
are unwilling to believe the unpleasant consequences which their own
mistakes and obstinacy have brought upon them.
True love and fidelity are no more to be estranged by ill, than
falsehood and hollow-heartedness can be conciliated by good usage.
This eminently appears in the instance of the good Earl of Kent, who,
though banished by Lear, and his life made forfeit if he were found in
Britain, choose to stay and abide all consequences, as long as there
was a chance of his being useful to the king, his master. See to what
mean shifts and disguises poor loyalty is forced to submit sometimes;
yet it counts nothing base or unworthy, so as it can but do service
where it owes an obligation. In the disguise of a serving-man, all his
greatness and pomp laid aside, this good earl proffered his services to
the king, who not knowing him to be Kent in that disguise, but pleased
with a certain plainness, or rather bluntness in his answers which the
earl put on, (so different from that smooth oily flattery which he had
so much reason to be sick of, having found the effects not answerable
in his daughter), a bargain was quickly struck, and Lear took Kent
into his service by the name of Caius, as he called himself, never
suspecting him to be his once great favorite, the high and mighty Earl
of Kent. This Caius quickly found means to show his fidelity and love
to his royal master; for Gonerill’s steward that same day behaving in a
disrespectful manner to Lear, and giving him saucy looks and language,
as no doubt he was secretly encouraged to do by his mistress, Caius
not enduring to hear so open an affront put upon majesty, made no more
ado, but presently tripped up his heels, and laid the unmannerly slave
in the kennel, for which friendly service Lear became more and more
attached to him.
Nor was Kent the only friend Lear had. In his degree, and so far as
so insignificant a personage could show his love, the poor fool, or
jester, that had been of his palace while Lear had a palace, as it was
the custom of kings and great personages at that time to keep a fool
(as he was called) to make them sport after serious business. This
poor fool clung to Lear after he had given away his crown, and by his
witty sayings would keep up his good humor, though he could not refrain
sometimes from jeering at his master for his imprudence, in uncrowning
himself and giving all away to his daughters, at which time, as he
rhymingly expressed it, these daughters
For sudden joy did weep,
And he for sorrow sung,
That such a king should play bo-peep,
And go the fools among.
And in such wild sayings and scraps of songs, of which he had plenty,
this pleasant, honest fool poured out his heart even in the presence
of Gonerill herself, in many a bitter taunt and jest which cut to the
quick; such as comparing the king to the hedge-sparrow, who feeds
the young of the cuckoo till they grow old enough, and then has its
head bit off for its pains. And saying that the ass may know when the
cart draws the horse (meaning that Lear’s daughters, that ought to go
behind, now ranked before their father); and that Lear was no longer
Lear, but the shadow of Lear; for which free speeches he was once or
twice threatened to be whipped.
The coolness and falling off of respect which Lear had begun to
perceive, were not all which this foolish-fond father was to suffer
from his unworthy daughter. She now plainly told him that his staying
in her palace was inconvenient so long as he insisted upon keeping up
an establishment of a hundred knights; that this establishment was
useless and expensive, and only served to fill her court with riot and
feasting; and she prayed him that he would lessen their number, and
keep none but old men about him, such as himself, and fitting his age.
Lear at first could not believe his eyes or ears, nor that it was
his daughter who spoke so unkindly. He could not believe that she
who had received a crown from him should seek to cut off his train,
and grudge him the respect due to his old age. But she persisting
in her undutiful demand, the old man’s rage was so excited, that he
called her a detested kite, and said that she spoke an untruth. And
so indeed she did, for the hundred knights were all men of choice
behavior and sobriety of manners, skilled in all particulars of duty,
and not given to rioting and feasting as she said. And he bid his
horses to be prepared, for he would go to his other daughter, Regan,
he and his hundred knights. And he spoke of ingratitude, and said it
was a marble-hearted devil, and showed more hideous in a child than
the sea-monster. And he cursed his eldest daughter Gonerill so as was
terrible to hear, praying that she might never have a child, or if
she had, that it might live to return that scorn and contempt upon
her, which she had shown to him; that she might feel how sharper than
a serpent’s tooth it was to have a thankless child. And Gonerill’s
husband, the Duke of Albany, beginning to excuse himself for any share
which Lear might suppose he had in the unkindness, Lear would not hear
him out, but in rage ordered his horses to be saddled, and set out with
his followers for the abode of Regan, his other daughter. And Lear
thought to himself, how small the fault of Cordelia (if it was a fault)
now appeared, in comparison with her sister’s, and he wept. And then he
was ashamed that such a creature as Gonerill should have so much power
over his manhood as to make him weep.
Regan and her husband were keeping their court in great pomp and state
at their palace; and Lear despatched his servant Caius with letters
to his daughter, that she might be prepared for his reception, while
he and his train followed after. But it seems that Gonerill had been
beforehand with him, sending letters also to Regan, accusing her father
of waywardness and ill humors, and advising her not to receive so great
a train as he was bringing with him. This messenger arrived at the same
time with Caius, and Caius and he met. And who should it be but Caius’
old enemy, the steward, whom he had formerly tripped up by the heels
for his saucy behavior to Lear. Caius not liking the fellow’s look,
and suspecting what he came for, began to revile him, and challenged
him to fight, which the fellow refusing, Caius, in a fit of honest
passion, beat him soundly, as such a mischief-maker and carrier of
wicked messages deserved; which coming to the ears of Regan and her
husband, they ordered Caius to be put in the stocks, though he was a
messenger from the king her father, and in that character demanded the
highest respect, so that the first thing the king saw when he entered
the castle, was his faithful servant Caius sitting in that disgraceful
situation.
This was but a bad omen of the reception which he was to expect; but
a worse followed, when upon inquiry for his daughter and her husband,
he was told they were weary with traveling all night, and could not
see him: and when lastly, upon his insisting in a positive and angry
manner to see them, they came to greet him, whom should he see in their
company but the hated Gonerill, who had come to tell her own story, and
set her sister against the king her father!
This sight much moved the old man, and still more to see Regan take her
by the hand: and he asked Gonerill if she was not ashamed to look upon
his white beard? And Regan advised him to go home again with Gonerill
and live with her peaceably, dismissing half of his attendants, and to
ask her forgiveness; for he was old and wanted discretion, and must be
ruled and led by persons that had more discretion than himself. And
Lear showed how preposterous that would sound, if he were to go down
on his knees, and beg of his own daughter for food and raiment, and he
argued against such an unnatural dependence; declaring his resolution
never to return with her, but to stay where he was with Regan, he and
his hundred knights: for he said that she had not forgot the half of
the kingdom which he had endowed her with, and that her eyes were not
fierce like Gonerill’s, but mild and kind. And he said that rather than
return to Gonerill, with half his train cut off, he would go over to
France, and beg a wretched pension of the king there, who had married
his youngest daughter without a portion.
But he was mistaken in expecting kinder treatment of Regan than he had
experienced from her sister Gonerill. As if willing to outdo her sister
in unfilial behavior, she declared that she thought fifty knights too
many to wait upon him; that five-and-twenty were enough. Then Lear,
nigh heart-broken, turned to Gonerill, and said that he would go
back with her, for her fifty doubled five-and-twenty, and so her love
was twice as much as Regan’s. But Gonerill excused herself and said,
“What need of so many as five-and-twenty? or even ten? or five? when
he might be waited upon by her servants or her sister’s servants?” So
these two wicked daughters, as if they strove to exceed each other in
cruelty to their old father who had been so good to them, by little
and little would have abated him of all his train, all respect (little
enough for him that once commanded a kingdom), which was left him
to show that he had once been a king! Not that a splendid train is
essential to happiness, but from a king to a beggar is a hard change,
from commanding millions to be without one attendant: and it was the
ingratitude in his daughters denying it, more than what he would suffer
by the want of it, which pierced this poor king to the heart: insomuch
that with this double ill-usage, and vexation for having so foolishly
given away a kingdom, his wits began to be unsettled, and while he said
he knew not what, he vowed revenge against those unnatural hags, and to
make examples of them that should be a terror to the earth!
While he was thus idly threatening what his weak arm could never
execute, night came on, and a loud storm of thunder and lightning
with rain; and his daughters still persisting in their resolution not
to admit his followers, he called for his horses, and chose rather
to encounter the utmost fury of the storm abroad, than to stay under
the same roof with these ungrateful daughters; and they, saying that
the injuries which willful men procure to themselves are their just
punishment, suffered him to go in that condition, and shut their doors
upon him.
The winds were high and the rain and storm increased when the old
man sallied forth to combat with the elements, less sharp than his
daughters’ unkindness. For many miles about there was scarce a bush:
and there upon a heath, exposed to the fury of the storm in a dark
night, did King Lear wander out, and defy the winds and the thunder;
and he bid the winds to blow the earth into the sea, or swell the waves
of the sea till they drowned the earth, that no token might remain of
any such ungrateful animal as man. The old king was now left with no
companion but the poor fool, who still abided with him, with his merry
conceits striving to out-jest misfortune, saying, it was but a naughty
night to swim in, and truly the king had better go in and ask his
daughter’s blessing:
But he that has a little tiny wit,
With heigh ho, the wind and rain!
Must make content with his fortune fit,
Though the rain it raineth every day:
and swearing it was a brave night to cool a lady’s pride.
Thus poorly accompanied this once great monarch was found by his ever
faithful servant, the good Earl of Kent, now transformed to Caius, who
ever followed close at his side, though the king did not know him to be
the earl; and he said, “Alas! sir, are you here? creatures that love
night love not such nights as these. This dreadful storm has driven
the beasts to their hiding places. Man’s nature can not endure the
affliction or the fear.” And Lear rebuked him, and said, these lesser
evils were not felt, where a greater malady was fixed. When the mind is
at ease, the body has leisure to be delicate; but the tempest in his
mind did take all feelings else from his senses, but of that which beat
at his heart. And he spoke of filial ingratitude, and said it was all
one as if the mouth should tear the hand for lifting food to it; for
parents were hands and food and everything to children.
But the good Cauis, still persisting in his entreaties that the king
would not stay out in the open air, at last persuaded him to enter a
little wretched hovel which stood upon the heath, where the fool first
entering, suddenly ran back terrified, saying he had seen a spirit.
But upon examination this spirit proved to be nothing more than a poor
Bedlam beggar, who had crept into this deserted hovel for shelter,
and with his talk about devils frighted the fool, one of those poor
lunatics who are either mad, or feign to be so, the better to extort
charity from the compassionate country people; who go about the country
calling themselves poor Tom and poor Turleygood, saying, “Who gives
anything to poor Tom?” sticking pins and nails and sprigs of rosemary
into their arms to make them bleed; with such horrible actions, partly
by prayers, and partly with lunatic curses, they move or terrify the
ignorant country folks into giving them alms. This poor fellow was such
a one; and the king seeing him in so wretched a plight, with nothing
but a blanket about his loins to cover his nakedness, could not be
persuaded but that the fellow was some father who had given all away to
his daughters, and brought himself to that pass; for nothing he thought
could bring a man to such wretchedness but the having unkind daughters.
And from this and many such wild speeches which he uttered, the good
Caius plainly perceived that he was not in his perfect mind, but that
his daughters´ ill-usage had really made him go mad. And now the
loyalty of this worthy Earl of Kent showed itself in more essential
services than he had hitherto found opportunity to perform. For with
the assistance of some of the king’s attendants who remained loyal,
he had the person of his royal master removed at daybreak to the
castle of Dover, where his own friends and influence, as Earl of Kent,
chiefly lay; and himself embarking for France, hastened to the court
of Cordelia, and did there in such moving terms represent the pitiful
condition of her royal father, and set out in such lively colors the
inhumanity of her sisters, that this good and loving child with many
tears besought the king, her husband, that he would give her leave
to embark for England with a sufficient power to subdue these cruel
daughters and their husbands, and restore the old king, her father, to
his throne; which being granted, she set forth, and with a royal army
she landed at Dover.
Lear having by some chance escaped from the guardian which the good
Earl of Kent had put over him to take care of him in his lunacy, was
found by some of Cordelia’s train, wandering about in the fields near
Dover, in a pitiable condition, stark mad and singing aloud to himself,
with a crown upon his head which he had made of straw and nettles,
and other wild weeds that he had picked up in the corn-fields. By the
advice of the physicians, Cordelia, though earnestly desirous of seeing
her father, was prevailed upon to put off the meeting, till by sleep
and the operation of herbs which they gave him, he should be restored
to greater composure. By the aid of these skillful physicians, to whom
Cordelia promised all her gold and jewels for the recovery of the old
king, Lear was soon in a condition to see his daughter.
A tender sight it was to see the meeting between this father and
daughter; to see the struggles between the joy of this poor old king
at beholding again his once darling child, and the shame at receiving
such filial kindness from her whom he had cast off for so small a fault
in his displeasure; both these passions struggling with the remains of
his malady, which, in his half-crazed brain, sometimes made him that he
scarce remembered where he was, or who it was that so kindly kissed him
and spoke to him: and then he would beg the standers-by not to laugh
at him, if he were mistaken in thinking this lady to be his daughter
Cordelia! And then to see him fall on his knees to beg pardon of his
child; and she, good lady, kneeling all the while to ask a blessing of
him, and telling him that it did not become him to kneel, but it was
her duty, for she was his child, his true and very child Cordelia. And
she kissed him (as she said) to kiss away all her sisters’ unkindness,
and said that they might be ashamed of themselves, to turn their
old kind father with his white beard out into the cold air, when
her enemy’s dog, though it had bit her (as she prettily expressed
it), should have stayed by her fire such a night as that, and warmed
himself. And she told her father how she had come from France with
purpose to bring him assistance; and he said that she must forget and
forgive, for he was old and foolish, and did not know what he did; but
that to be sure she had great cause not to love him, but her sisters
had none. And Cordelia said that she had no cause, no more than they
had. So we will leave this old king in the protection of this dutiful
and loving child, where, by the help of sleep and medicine, she and her
physicians at length succeeded in winding up the untuned and jarring
senses which the cruelty of his other daughters had so violently
shaken. Let us return to say a word or two about those cruel daughters.
These monsters of ingratitude, who had been so false to their old
father, could not be expected to prove more faithful to their own
husbands. They soon grew tired of paying even the appearance of duty
and affection, and in an open way showed they had fixed their loves
upon another. It happened that the object of their guilty loves was
the same. It was Edmund, a natural son of the late Earl of Gloucester,
who, by his treacheries, had succeeded in disinheriting his brother
Edgar, the lawful heir, from his earldom, and by his wicked practices
was now earl himself: a wicked man, and a fit object for the love of
such wicked creatures as Gonerill and Regan. It falling out about
this time that the Duke of Cornwall, Regan’s husband, died, Regan
immediately declared her intention of wedding this Earl of Gloucester,
which rousing the jealousy of her sister, to whom as well as to Regan,
this wicked earl had at sundry times professed love, Gonerill found
means to make away with her sister by poison; but being detected in
her practices, and imprisoned by her husband, the Duke of Albany, for
this deed, and for her guilty passion for the earl which had come to
his ears, she, in a fit of disappointed love and rage, shortly put an
end to her own life. Thus the justice of heaven at last overtook these
wicked daughters.
While the eyes of all men were upon this event, admiring the justice
displayed in their deserved deaths, the same eyes were suddenly taken
off from this sight to admire at the mysterious ways of the same
power in the melancholy fate of the young and virtuous daughter, the
Lady Cordelia, whose good deeds did seem to deserve a more fortunate
conclusion. But it is an awful truth, that innocence and piety are not
always successful in this world. The forces which Gonerill and Regan
had sent out under the command of the bad Earl of Gloucester were
victorious, and Cordelia, by the practices of this wicked earl, who
did not like that any should stand between him and the throne, ended
her life in prison. Thus heaven took this innocent lady to itself in
her young years, after showing to the world an illustrious example of
filial duty. Lear did not long survive this kind child.
Before he died, the good Earl of Kent, who had still attended his old
master’s steps from the first of his daughter’s ill-usage to this sad
period of his decay, tried to make him understand that it was he who
had followed him under the name of Caius; but Lear’s care-crazed brain
at that time could not comprehend how that could be, or how Kent and
Caius could be the same person. So Kent thought it needless to trouble
him with explanations at such a time; and Lear soon after expiring,
this faithful servant to the king, between age and grief for his old
master’s vexations, soon followed him to the grave.
How the judgment of heaven overtook the bad Earl of Gloucester, whose
treasons were discovered, and himself slain in single combat with
his brother, the lawful earl; and how Gonerill’s husband, the Duke
of Albany, who was innocent of the death of Cordelia, and had never
encouraged his lady in her wicked proceedings against her father,
ascended the throne of Britain after the death of Lear, is needless
here to narrate, Lear and his three daughters being dead, whose
adventures alone concern our story.
HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.
Gertrude, Queen of Denmark, becoming a widow by the sudden death of
King Hamlet, in less than two months after his death married his
brother Claudius, which was noted by all people at the time for a
strange act of indiscretion, or unfeelingness, or worse; for this
Claudius did no ways resemble her late husband in the qualities of his
person or his mind, but was as contemptible of outward appearance as
he was base and unworthy of disposition. And suspicions did not fail
to arise in the minds of some, that he had privately made away with
his brother, the late king, with the view of marrying his widow, and
ascending the throne of Denmark, to the exclusion of young Hamlet, the
son of the buried king, and lawful successor to the throne.
But upon no one did this unadvised action of the queen make such
impression as upon this young prince, who loved and venerated the
memory of his dead father almost to idolatry, and being of a nice
sense of honor, and a most exquisite practiser of propriety himself,
did sorely take to heart this unworthy conduct of his mother Gertrude;
insomuch that, between grief for his father’s death, and shame for
his mother’s marriage, this young prince was over-clouded with a
deep melancholy, and lost all his mirth and all his good looks. All
his customary pleasure in books forsook him, his princely exercises
and sports, proper to his youth, were no longer acceptable; he grew
weary of the world, which seemed to him an unweeded garden, where all
the wholesome flowers were choked up, and nothing but weeds could
thrive. Not that the prospect of exclusion from the throne, his lawful
inheritance, weighed so much upon his spirits, though that to a young
and high-minded prince was a bitter wound and a sore indignity; but
what so galled him, and took away all his cheerful spirits, was that
his mother had shown herself so forgetful to his father’s memory. And
such a father! who had been to her so loving and so gentle a husband!
and then she always appeared as loving and obedient a wife to him, and
would hang upon him as if her affection grew to him: and now within two
months, or, as it seemed to young Hamlet, less than two months, she
had married again, married his uncle, her dead husband’s brother, in
itself a highly improper and unlawful marriage, from the nearness of
relationship, but made much more so by the indecent haste with which
it was concluded, and the unkindly character of the man whom she had
chosen. This it was, which, more than the loss of ten kingdoms, dashed
the spirits, and brought a cloud over the mind of this honorable young
prince.
In vain was all that his mother Gertrude or the king could do or
contrive to divert him; he still appeared in court in a suit of deep
black, as mourning for the king his father’s death, which mode of
dress he never laid aside, not even in compliment to his mother upon
the day she was married, nor could he be brought to join in any of the
festivities or rejoicings at that (as it appeared to him) disgraceful
day.
What mostly troubled him was an uncertainty about the manner of his
father’s death. It was given out by Claudius that a serpent had stung
him; but young Hamlet had shrewd suspicions that Claudius himself was
the serpent; in plain English that he had murdered him for his crown,
and that the serpent who stung his father did now sit on his throne.
How far he was right in this conjecture, and what he ought to think
of his mother, how far she was privy to this murder, and whether by
her consent or knowledge, or without, it came to pass, were the doubts
which continually harassed and distracted him.
A rumor had reached the ear of young Hamlet, that an apparition,
exactly resembling the dead king his father, had been seen by the
soldiers upon watch, on the platform before the palace at midnight,
for two or three nights successively. The figure came constantly clad
in the same suit of armor, from head to foot, which the dead king was
known to have worn: and they who saw it (Hamlet’s bosom friend was one)
agreed in their testimony as to the time and manner of its appearance:
that it came just as the clock struck twelve: that it looked pale, with
a face more of sorrow than of anger; that its beard was grisly; and the
color a sable silvered, as they had seen it in his life-time; that it
made no answer when they spoke to it, yet once they thought it lifted
up its head, and addressed itself to motion as if it were about to
speak; but in that moment the morning cock crew, and it shrunk in haste
away, and vanished out of their sight.
The young prince, strangely amazed at their relation, which was too
consistent and agreeing with itself to disbelieve, concluded that it
was his father’s ghost they had seen, and determined to take his watch
with the soldiers that night, that he might have a chance of seeing it:
for he reasoned with himself that such an appearance did not come for
nothing, but that the ghost had something to impart; and though it had
been silent hitherto, yet it would speak to him. And he waited with
impatience for the coming of night. When night came he took his stand
with Horatio, and Marcellus, one of the guard, upon the platform, where
this apparition was accustomed to walk: and it being a cold night,
and the air unusually raw and nipping, Hamlet and Horatio and their
companion fell into some talk about the coldness of the night, which
was broken off by Horatio announcing that the ghost was coming.
At the sight of his father’s spirit Hamlet was struck with a sudden
surprise and fear. He at first called upon the angels and heavenly
ministers to defend them, for he knew not whether it were a good spirit
or bad; whether it came for good or for evil. But he gradually assumed
more courage; and his father (as it seemed to him) looked upon him so
piteously, and as it were desiring to have conversation with him, and
did in all respects appear so like himself as he was when he lived,
that Hamlet could not help addressing him: he called him by his name,
Hamlet, King, Father! and conjured him that he would tell the reason
why he had left his grave, where they had seen him quietly bestowed,
to come again and visit the earth and the moonlight; and besought him
that he would let them know if there was anything which they could do
to give peace to his spirit. And the ghost beckoned to Hamlet, that
he should go with him to some more removed place where they might
be alone: and Horatio and Marcellus would have dissuaded the young
prince from following it, for they feared lest it should be some evil
spirit, who would tempt him to the neighboring sea, or to the top of
some dreadful cliff, and there put on some horrible shape which might
deprive the prince of his reason. But their counsels and entreaties
could not alter Hamlet’s determination, who cared too little about life
to fear the losing of it; and as to his soul, he said, what could the
spirit do to that, being a thing immortal as itself? and he felt as
hardy as a lion, and bursting from them who did all they could to hold
him, he followed whithersoever the spirit led him.
And when they were alone together, the spirit broke silence, and told
him that he was the ghost of Hamlet, his father, who had been cruelly
murdered, and he told the manner of it; that it was done by his own
brother Claudius, Hamlet’s uncle, as Hamlet had already but too much
suspected, for the hope of succeeding him. That as he was sleeping
in his garden, his custom always in the afternoon, this treacherous
brother stole upon him in his sleep, and poured the juice of poisonous
henbane into his ears, which has such antipathy to the life of man,
that swift as quicksilver it courses through all the veins of the body,
baking up the blood, and spreading a crust-like leprosy all over the
skin; thus sleeping, by a brother’s hand, he was cut off at once from
his crown, his queen, and his life: and he adjured Hamlet, if he did
ever his dear father love, that he would revenge his foul murder. And
the ghost lamented to his son, that his mother should so fall off from
virtue, as to prove false to the wedded love of her first husband, and
to marry his murderer; and he cautioned Hamlet, howsoever he proceeded
in his revenge against his wicked uncle, by no means to act any
violence against the person of his mother, but to leave her to heaven,
and to the stings and thorns of conscience. Hamlet promised to observe
the ghost’s directions in all things, and the ghost vanished.
And when Hamlet was left alone, he took up a solemn resolution, that
all he had in his memory, all that he had ever learned by books or
observation, should be instantly forgotten by him, and nothing live in
his brain but the memory of what the ghost had told him, and enjoined
him to do. Hamlet related the particulars of the conversation which had
passed to none but his dear friend Horatio; and he enjoined both to him
and Marcellus the strictest secrecy as to what they had seen that night.
The terror which the sight of the ghost had left upon the senses of
Hamlet, he being weak and dispirited before, almost unhinged his mind,
and drove him beside his reason. And he, fearing that it would continue
to have this effect, which might subject him to observation, and set
his uncle upon his guard, if he suspected that he was meditating any
thing against him, or that Hamlet really knew more of his father’s
death than he professed, took up a strange resolution from that time
to counterfeit as if he were really and truly mad; thinking that he
would be less an object of suspicion when his uncle should believe
him incapable of any serious project, and that his real perturbation
of mind would be best covered and pass concealed under a guise of
pretended lunacy.
From this time Hamlet affected a certain wildness and strangeness
in his apparel, his speech and behavior, and did so excellently
counterfeit the madman, that the king and queen were both deceived, and
not thinking his grief for his father’s death a sufficient cause to
produce such a distemper, for they knew not of the appearance of the
ghost, they concluded that his malady was love, and they thought they
had found out the object.
Before Hamlet fell into the melancholy way which has been related,
he had dearly loved a fair maid called Ophelia, the daughter of
Polonius, the king’s chief counselor in affairs of state. He had sent
her letters and rings, and made many tenders of his affection to her,
and importuned her with love in honorable fashion: and she had given
belief to his vows and importunities. But the melancholy which he fell
into latterly had made him neglect her, and from the time he conceived
the project of counterfeiting madness, he affected to treat her with
unkindness, and a sort of rudeness; but she, good lady, rather than
reproach him with being false to her, persuaded herself that it was
nothing but the disease in his mind, and no settled unkindness, which
made him less observant of her than formerly; and she compared the
faculties or his once noble mind and excellent understanding, impaired
as they were with the deep melancholy that oppressed him, to sweet
bells which in themselves are capable of most exquisite music, but
when jangled out of tune, or rudely handled, produce only a harsh and
unpleasing sound.
Though the rough business which Hamlet had in hand, the revenging of
his father’s death upon his murderer, did not suit with the playful
state of courtship, or admit of the society of so idle a passion as
love now seemed to him, yet it could not hinder but that soft thoughts
of his Ophelia would come between, and in one of these moments, when he
thought that his treatment of this gentle lady had been unreasonably
harsh, he wrote her a letter full of wild starts of passion, and in
extravagant terms, such as agreed with his supposed madness, but mixed
with some gentle touches of affection, which could not but show to his
honored lady that a deep love for her yet lay at the bottom of his
heart. He bade her to doubt the stars were fire, and to doubt that the
sun did move, to doubt truth to be a liar, but never to doubt that
he loved; with more of such extravagant phrases. This letter Ophelia
dutifully showed to her father, and the old man thought himself bound
to communicate it to the king and queen, who from that time supposed
the true cause of Hamlet’s madness was love. And the queen wished that
the good beauties of Ophelia might be the happy cause of his wildness,
for so she hoped that her virtues might happily restore him to his
accustomed way again, to both their honors.
But Hamlet’s malady lay deeper than she supposed, or than could be
so cured. His father’s ghost, which he had seen, still haunted his
imagination, and the sacred injunction to revenge his murder gave him
no rest till it was accomplished. Every hour of delay seemed to him a
sin, and a violation of his father’s commands. Yet how to compass the
death of the king, surrounded as he constantly was with his guards,
was no easy matter. Or if it had been, the presence of the queen,
Hamlet’s mother, who was generally with the king, was a restraint
upon his purpose, which he could not break through. Besides, the very
circumstance that the usurper was his mother’s husband filled him with
some remorse, and still blunted the edge of his purpose. The mere
act of putting a fellow-creature to death was in itself odious and
terrible to a disposition naturally so gentle as Hamlet’s was. His
very melancholy, and the dejection of spirits he had so long been in,
produced an irresoluteness and wavering of purpose, which kept him
from proceeding to extremities. Moreover, he could not help having
some scruples upon his mind, whether the spirit which he had seen was
indeed his father, or whether it might not be the devil, who he had
heard has power to take any form he pleases, and who might have assumed
his father’s shape only to take advantage of his weakness and his
melancholy, to drive him to the doing of so desperate an act as murder.
And he determined that he would have more certain grounds to go upon
than a vision, or apparition, which might be a delusion.
While he was in this irresolute mind there came to the court certain
players, in whom Hamlet formerly used to take delight, and particularly
to hear one of them speak a tragical speech, describing the death of
old Priam, King of Troy, with the grief of Hecuba, his queen. Hamlet
welcomed his old friends, the players, and remembering how that speech
had formerly given him pleasure, requested the player to repeat it,
which he did in so lively a manner, setting forth the cruel murder
of the feeble king, with the destruction of his people and city by
fire, and the mad grief of the old queen, running barefoot up and down
the palace, with a poor clout upon that head where a crown had been,
and with nothing but a blanket upon her loins, snatched up in haste,
where she had worn a royal robe; that not only it drew tears from all
that stood by, who thought they saw the real scene, so lively was it
represented, but even the player himself delivered it with a broken
voice and real tears. This put Hamlet upon thinking, if that player
could so work himself up to passion by a mere fictitious speech, to
weep for one that he had never seen, for Hecuba, that had been dead
so many hundred years, how dull was he, who having a real motive and
cue for passion, a real king and a dear father murdered, was yet so
little moved that his revenge all this while had seemed to have slept
in dull and muddy forgetfulness! And while he meditated on actors and
acting, and the powerful effects which a good play, represented to
the life, has upon the spectator, he remembered the instance of some
murderer, who, seeing a murder on the stage, was by the mere force of
the scene and resemblance of circumstances so affected, that on the
spot he confessed the crime which he had committed. And he determined
that these players should play something like the murder of his father
before his uncle, and he would watch narrowly what effect it might
have upon him, and from his looks he would be able to gather with more
certainty if he were the murderer or not. To this effect he ordered a
play to be prepared, to the representation of which he invited the king
and queen.
The story of the play was of a murder done in Vienna upon a duke. The
duke’s name was Gonzago, his wife Baptista. The play showed how one
Lucianus, a near relation to the duke, poisoned him in his garden for
his estate, and how the murderer in a short time after got the love of
Gonzago’s wife.
At the representation of this play the king, who did not know the trap
which was laid for him, was present, with his queen and the whole
court; Hamlet sitting attentively near him to observe his looks. The
play began with a conversation between Gonzago and his wife, in which
the lady made many protestations of love, and of never marrying a
second husband, if she should outlive Gonzago; wishing she might be
accursed if ever she took a second husband, and adding that no woman
ever did so but those wicked women who kill their first husbands.
Hamlet observed the king, his uncle, change color at this expression,
and that it was as bad as wormwood both to him and to the queen.
But when Lucianus, according to the story, came to poison Gonzago
sleeping in the garden, the strong resemblance which it bore to his
own wicked act upon the late king, his brother, whom he had poisoned
in his garden, so struck upon the conscience of this usurper, that he
was unable to sit out the rest of the play, but on a sudden calling
for lights to his chamber, and affecting or partly feeling a sudden
sickness, he abruptly left the theatre. The king being departed, the
play was given over. Now Hamlet had seen enough to be satisfied that
the words of the ghost were true, and no illusion; and in a fit of
gaiety, like that which comes over a man who suddenly has some great
doubt or scruple resolved, he swore to Horatio that he would take the
ghost’s word for a thousand pounds. But before he could make up his
resolution as to what measure of revenge he should take, now he was
certainly informed that his uncle was his father’s murderer, he was
sent for by the queen, his mother, to a private conference in her
closet.
It was by desire of the king that the queen sent for Hamlet, that she
might signify to her son how much his late behavior had displeased them
both; and the king, wishing to know all that passed at that conference,
and thinking that the too partial report of a mother might let slip
some part of Hamlet’s words, which it might much import the king to
know, Polonius, the old counselor of state, was ordered to plant
himself behind the hangings in the queen’s closet, where he might,
unseen, hear all that passed. This artifice was particularly adapted to
the disposition of Polonius, who was a man grown old in crooked maxims
and policies of state, and delighted to get at the knowledge of matters
in an indirect and cunning way.
Hamlet being come to his mother, she began to tax him in the roundest
way with his actions and behavior, and she told him that he had given
great offence to _his father_, meaning the king, his uncle, whom,
because he had married her, she called Hamlet’s father. Hamlet, sorely
indignant that she would give so dear and honored a name as father
seemed to him, to a wretch who was indeed no better than the murderer
of his true father, with some sharpness replied, “Mother, _you_ have
much offended _my father_.” The queen said that was but an idle answer.
“As good as the question deserved,” said Hamlet. The queen asked him
if he had forgotten who it was he was speaking to. “Alas!” replied
Hamlet, “I wish I could forget. You are the queen, your husband’s
brother’s wife; and you are my mother: I wish you were not what you
are.” “Nay, then,” said the queen, “if you show me so little respect, I
will set those to you that can speak,” and was going to send the king
or Polonius to him. But Hamlet would not let her go, now he had her
alone, till he had tried if his words could not bring her to some sense
of her wicked life; and, taking her by the wrist, he held her fast, and
made her sit down. She, affrighted at his earnest manner, and fearful
lest in his lunacy he should do her a mischief, cried out: and a voice
was heard from behind the hangings, “Help, help the queen;” which
Hamlet hearing, and verily thinking that it was the king himself there
concealed, he drew his sword, and stabbed at the place where the voice
came from, as he would have stabbed a rat that ran there, till the
voice ceasing, he concluded the person to be dead. But when he dragged
forth the body, it was not the king, but Polonius, the old officious
counselor, that had planted himself as a spy behind the hangings. “Oh
me!” exclaimed the queen, “what a rash and bloody deed have you done!”
“A bloody deed, mother,” replied Hamlet, “but not so bad as yours,
who killed a king and married his brother.” Hamlet had gone too far
to leave off here. He was now in the humor to speak plainly to his
mother, and he pursued it. And though the faults of parents are to be
tenderly treated by their children, yet in the case of great crimes
the son may have leave to speak even to his own mother with some
harshness, so as that harshness is meant for her good, and to turn her
from her wicked ways, and not done for the purpose of upbraiding. And
now this virtuous prince did in moving terms represent to the queen
the heinousness of her offense, in being so forgetful of the dead
king, his father, as in so short a space of time to marry with his
brother and reputed murderer: such an act as, after the vows which she
had sworn to her first husband, was enough to make all vows of women
suspected, and all virtue to be accounted hypocrisy, wedding contracts
to be less than gamester’s oaths, and religion to be a mockery and a
mere form of words. He said she had done such a deed, that the heavens
blushed at it, and the earth was sick of her because of it. And he
showed her two pictures, the one of the late king, her first husband,
and the other of the present king, her second husband, and he bade her
mark the difference: what a grace was on the brow of his father, how
like a god he looked! the curls of Apollo, the forehead of Jupiter,
the eye of Mars, and a posture like to Mercury newly alighted on some
heaven-kissing hill! this man, he said, _had been_ her husband. And
then he showed her whom she had got in his stead: how like a blight or
a mildew he looked, for so he had blasted his wholesome brother. And
the queen was sore ashamed that he should so turn her eyes inward upon
her soul, which she now saw so black and deformed. And he asked her how
she could continue to live with this man and be a wife to him, who had
murdered her first husband, and got the crown by as false means as a
thief; and just as he spoke, the ghost of his father, such as he was in
his life-time, and such as he had lately seen it, entered the room, and
Hamlet, in great terror, asked what it would have; and the ghost said
that it came to remind him of the revenge he had promised, which Hamlet
seemed to have forgot; and the ghost bade him speak to his mother, for
the grief and terror she was in would else kill her. It then vanished,
and was seen by none but Hamlet, neither could he by pointing to where
it stood, or by any description, make his mother perceive it, who was
terribly frightened all this while to hear him conversing, as it seemed
to her, with nothing, and she imputed it to the disorder of his mind.
But Hamlet begged her not to flatter her wicked soul in such a manner
as to think it was his madness, and not her own offences, which had
brought his father’s spirit again on the earth. And he bade her feel
his pulse, how temperately it beat, not like a madman’s. And he begged
of her with tears to confess herself to heaven for what was past, and
for the future to avoid the company of the king, and be no more as
a wife to him; and when she should show herself a mother to him, by
respecting his father’s memory, he would ask a blessing of her as a
son. And she promising to observe his directions, the conference ended.
And now Hamlet was at leisure to consider who it was, that in his
unfortunate rashness he had killed. And when he came to see that it was
Polonius, the father of the Lady Ophelia, whom he so dearly loved, he
drew apart the dead body, and, his spirits being now a little quieter,
he wept for what he had done.
This unfortunate death of Polonius gave the king a pretense for
sending Hamlet out of the kingdom. He would willingly have put him
to death, fearing him as dangerous; but he dreaded the people, who
loved Hamlet; and the queen, who, with all her faults, doated upon the
prince, her son. So this subtle king, under pretence of providing for
Hamlet’s safety, that he might not be called to account for Polonius’
death, caused him to be conveyed on board a ship bound for England,
under the care of two courtiers, by whom he despatched letters to the
English court, which at that time was in subjection and paid tribute
to Denmark, requiring for special reasons there pretended, that
Hamlet should be put to death as soon as he landed on English ground.
Hamlet, suspecting some treachery, in the night-time secretly got at
the letters, and skilfully erasing his own name, he, in the stead of
it, put in the names of those two courtiers, who had the charge of
him to be put to death; then sealing up the letters, he put them in
their place again. Soon after the ship was attacked by pirates, and a
sea-fight commenced, in the course of which Hamlet, desirous to show
his valor, with sword in hand, singly boarded the enemy’s vessel, while
his own ship, in a cowardly manner, bore away, and leaving him to his
fate, the two courtiers made the best of their way to England, charged
with those letters, the sense of which Hamlet had altered to their own
deserved destruction.
The pirates, who had the prince in their power, showed themselves
gentle enemies, and knowing whom they had got prisoner, in the hope
that the prince might do them a good turn at court in recompense for
any favor they might show him, they set Hamlet on shore at the nearest
port in Denmark. From that place Hamlet wrote to the king, acquainting
him with the strange chance which had brought him back to his own
country, and saying that on the next day he should present himself
before his majesty. When he got home, a sad spectacle offered itself
the first thing to his eyes. This was the funeral of the young and
beautiful Ophelia, his once dear mistress. The wits of this young lady
had begun to turn ever since her poor father’s death. That he should
die a violent death, and by the hands of the prince whom she loved,
so affected this tender young maid that in a little time she grew
perfectly distracted, and would go about giving flowers away to the
ladies of the court, and saying that they were for her father’s burial,
singing songs about love and about death, and sometimes such as had no
meaning at all, as if she had no memory of what had happened to her.
There was a willow which grew slanting over a brook, and reflected
its leaves in the stream. To this brook she came one day when she was
unwatched, with garlands she had been making, mixed up of daisies and
nettles, flowers and weeds together, and clambering up to hang her
garland upon the boughs of the willow, a bough broke and precipitated
this fair young maid, garland and all that she had gathered, into the
water, where her clothes bore her up for awhile, during which she
chanted scraps of old tunes, like one insensible to her own distress,
or as if she were a creature natural to that element; but it was not
long before her garments, heavy with the wet, pulled her in from her
melodious singing to a muddy and miserable death.
It was the funeral of this fair maid which her brother Laertes was
celebrating, the king and queen and whole court being present, when
Hamlet arrived. He knew not what all this show imported, but stood on
one side, not inclining to interrupt the ceremony. He saw the flowers
strewed upon her grave, as the custom was in maiden burials, which the
queen herself threw in; and as she threw them, she said, “Sweets to
the sweet! I thought to have decked thy bride-bed, sweet maid, not to
have strewed thy grave. Thou shouldst have been my Hamlet’s wife.” And
he heard her brother wish that violets might spring from her grave;
and he saw him leap into the grave all frantic with grief, and bid the
attendants pile mountains of earth upon him, that he might be buried
with her. And Hamlet’s love for this fair maid came back to him, and
he could not bear that a brother should show so much transport of
grief; for he thought that he loved Ophelia better than forty thousand
brothers. Then discovering himself, he leaped into the grave where
Laertes was, all as frantic or more frantic than he, and Laertes,
knowing him to be Hamlet, who had been the cause of his father’s and
his sister’s death, grappled him by the throat as an enemy, till the
attendants parted them; and Hamlet, after the funeral, excused his
hasty act in throwing himself into the grave as if to brave Laertes;
but he said he could not bear that any one should seem to outgo him in
grief for the death of the fair Ophelia. And for the time these two
noble youths seemed reconciled.
But out of the grief and anger of Laertes for the death of his father
and Ophelia, the king, Hamlet’s wicked uncle, contrived destruction for
Hamlet. He set on Laertes, under cover of peace and reconciliation,
to challenge Hamlet to a friendly trial of skill at fencing, which
Hamlet accepting, a day was appointed to try the match. At this match
all the court was present, and Laertes, by direction of the king,
prepared a poisoned weapon. Upon this match great wagers were laid
by the courtiers, as both Hamlet and Laertes were known to excel at
this sword-play; and Hamlet, taking up the foils, chose one, not at
all suspecting the treachery of Laertes, or being careful to examine
Laertes’ weapon, who, instead of a foil or blunted sword, which the
laws of fencing require, made use of one with a point, and poisoned. At
first Laertes did but play with Hamlet, and suffered him to gain some
advantage, which the dissembling king magnified and extolled beyond
measure, drinking to Hamlet’s success, and wagering rich bets upon the
issue; but after a few passes, Laertes, growing warm, made a deadly
thrust at Hamlet with his poisoned weapon, and gave him a mortal blow.
Hamlet incensed, but not knowing the whole of the treachery, in the
scuffle exchanged his own innocent weapon for Laertes’ deadly one, and
with a thrust of Laertes’ own sword repaid Laertes home, who was thus
justly caught in his own treachery.
In this instant the queen shrieked that she was poisoned. She had
inadvertently drunk out of a bowl which the king had prepared for
Hamlet, in case that being warm in fencing he should call for drink.
Into this the treacherous king had infused a deadly poison, to make
sure of Hamlet, if Laertes had failed. He had forgotten to warn the
queen of the bowl, which she drank off and immediately died, exclaiming
with her last breath that she was poisoned.
Hamlet suspecting some treachery, ordered the doors to be shut, while
he sought it out. Laertes told him to seek no further, for he was the
traitor; and feeling his life go away with the wound which Hamlet had
given him, he made confession of the treachery he had used, and how he
had fallen a victim to it. And he told Hamlet of the envenomed point,
and said that Hamlet had not half an hour to live, for no medicine
could cure him; and, begging forgiveness of Hamlet, he died, with his
last words accusing the king of being the contriver of the mischief.
When Hamlet saw his end draw near, there being yet some venom left
upon the sword, he suddenly turned upon his false uncle, and thrust
the point of it to his heart, fulfilling the promise which he had made
to his father’s spirit, whose injunction was now accomplished, and
his foul murder revenged upon the murderer. Then Hamlet, feeling his
breath fail and life departing, turned to his dear friend Horatio, who
had been spectator of this fatal tragedy, and with his dying breath
requested him that he would live to tell his story to the world (for
Horatio had made a motion as if he would slay himself to accompany the
prince in death), and Horatio promised that he would make a true report
as one that was privy to all the circumstances.
And, thus satisfied, the noble heart of Hamlet cracked. And Horatio
and the bystanders with many tears commended the spirit of their sweet
prince to the guardianship of angels. For Hamlet was a loving and a
gentle prince, and greatly beloved for his many noble and prince-like
qualities, and if he had lived, would no doubt have proved a most royal
and complete king to Denmark.
THE SUN-WORSHIPPERS.
By HATTIE A. COOLEY.
The great, warm, yellow western sky,
Glows down on their eager faces;
Horizon tints of rose float nigh
Above the landscape’s graces.
The sun-god’s light has power to thrill
The priest with his victim gory;
The golden waves of sunset fill
Each soul with their mystic glory.
But in the twilight, gray and dim,
Both Faith and Hope are sleeping,
And not a thought goes up to Him
Who holds the sun in keeping.
At last, on priests who sacrifice,
On souls and altars burning,
A silent, double darkness lies,
And hides them past discerning.
Uncounted years since then have fled,
And buried deep the story
Of the silent nation lying dead
Amid these ruins hoary.
The sun still shines as bright to-day,
And glows as warm and tender
On stone-heaps gray, and dust and clay,
As once on the temple’s splendor.
And looking back we strain to see,
Upon these crumbling pages,
A glimpse of what the world would be
Shut out from God for ages.
C. L. S. C. WORK.
By J. H. VINCENT, D.D., SUPERINTENDENT OF INSTRUCTION, C. L. S. C.
The studies for February comprise Astronomy, English, Russian,
Scandinavian, Biblical, and General Religious Literature.
* * * * *
The best authority for the pronunciation of names of distinguished
persons is “Lippincott’s Biographical Dictionary,” by Thomas.
* * * * *
Prof. J. H. Worman writes us that the _oe_ in Goethe is pronounced like
_ea_ in heard; _th_ is sounded like _t_. In Mülbach the _ü_ is like the
French _u_.
* * * * *
Another explanation: The White Seal lists on page 43 of the October
CHAUTAUQUAN are for graduates of 1882 who have two white seals, but who
did not read the “White Seal Course” for 1880 and 1881, or for 1881
and 1882. On page 55 the White Seal Course indicated is for persons
who have not yet graduated, and who wish to add a white seal for the
current year to their diplomas. The white crystal seal is for graduates
of 1882, whether they have won the white seals of 1880-82 or not. It
is the design of the white crystal seal to keep the graduates in line
and in sympathy with the current course of study. A student who did not
take the two white seals of 1880-82, may take them, and also take the
white crystal seal for 1882, or he may omit them, and take the white
crystal seal for 1882. Does this throw any light?
* * * * *
A member of the C. L. S. C. writes: “I am so happy in reading
‘Packard’s Geology.’ I have not the diagrams, nor access to them,
and so I am selfish enough to wish they had been in miniature and
scattered through the book. Anyway, the one picture on page 41, of the
Oblong Geyser, Yellowstone Park, gave me great pleasure, for here in
my cabinet I have one of these same ball-like deposits from those very
hot springs, Yellowstone Park, besides two other deposits in different
states of compactness, also petrified and agatized wood, and obsidian,
and at our limestone quarries in Chicago I have found the fossil coral
as pictured on page 63.”
* * * * *
In reference to the use of the character “k” instead of “c” in the
word Perikles, and other words, Prof. T. T. Timayenis, author of
the “History of Greece,” says: “It is the custom of all scholars of
the present day to reproduce as nearly as possible the sound of the
Greek names as pronounced by the Greeks. To this end all Greek names
beginning with ‘k’ retain that letter when translated into English,
as the sound of the Greek ‘k’ is more faithfully reproduced by its
equivalent ‘k.’ The idea of distorting the sound of the Greek name
to such an extent as to assume to reproduce the character ‘k’ by
the English ‘c’ is old, antiquated, and has been long abandoned by
scholars. The rule to-day followed by scholars is as follows: Reproduce
(that is to say, translate,) all Greek names into English by retaining
as nearly as possible the sound of the word. This custom has always
existed among the Germans. But I think it is only within the last five
or six years that it has been generally accepted by scholars in England
and America. I believe that the publishers of Webster’s Dictionary
ought to be up with the times.” This statement of the case, may seem
very bold on the part of Prof. Timayenis, but we give him the chance to
express himself on the subject.
* * * * *
To A. B.—Yes; read the best authors in fiction when you read fiction at
all.... George Ebers is recent, but stands well in his chosen field,
that of old Egyptian life.... Read Scott rather than Dickens. The
latter is a master in caricature and in his description of English, and
especially of London, low life.... The second volume of Timayenis’s
Greek _will_ be taken up in ’83.
* * * * *
A correspondent writes from Newton, Iowa, or Missouri, or somewhere
else; the postmark is so indistinct it is impossible to tell where. No
name is signed, no date given; and how can I answer the question?
* * * * *
Some one suggests a topic (an old one) for conversation, and gives the
names of what he regards as the ten greatest characters of history:
Moses, David, (Confucius or Alexander the Great), Julius Cæsar,
Zoroaster, Paul, Mohammed, Luther, Wesley, Napoleon.
* * * * *
In reply to a criticism on Prof. A. S. Packard’s book on “Geology,”
the Professor says: “The person who writes you is mistaken. I nowhere
say that the center of the earth is a burning mass. I do say, page 26,
‘The occurrence of volcanoes, and the wide-spread agency of heat or
fire in former times, indicate the existence of large areas of melted
rock or lava in the earth.’ I mean by this that under volcanic regions
are lakes or reservoirs of melted rock. The globe in general is a solid
sphere, solid at the center. This is a moderate and modern view. What
your correspondent attributes to me is an old-fashioned and obsolete
view. Let him refer to Dana’s ‘Geology’ for the latest views, or to
Leconte’s ‘Geology’ for all fuller details than my humble attempt to
excite an interest in the subject.”
* * * * *
I am anxious to purchase a copy of the CHAUTAUQUA ASSEMBLY HERALD for
March, 1879, Vol. 3, No. 25, and for October, 1879, Vol. 4, No. 21,
also for May, 1880, Vol. 4, No. 28. Who can help me?
* * * * *
In response to my suggestion about reading for intellectual discipline,
a correspondent says: “In the December number of THE CHAUTAUQUAN I
noticed your item in ‘C. L. S. C. Work’ in regard to reading and
re-reading certain books in the year’s course for mental discipline.
I think the plan a good one, but would like to make a suggestion. I
think it would be a good plan to recommend Alden’s ‘Self-Education’ to
those who are taking up the studies of the first year. I got a copy of
it before I joined the C. L. S. C., and, although it was one of the
smallest books I ever read, yet I got more good out of it than of any
other. As you advise, I read it, and re-read, and read it again, and
for weeks and nearly months it was my constant companion, to be picked
up in spare moments. The reason I recommend it is because there are so
many members of the C. L. S. C. who have never had many educational
advantages when young. To them this book is invaluable, and may be the
means of helping them in their studies as it did me. To the College
graduate, of course, this would be unnecessary, but to the majority of
the others I think it would be of great use. I think there are too many
who look upon education as knowing—accumulating knowledge—especially in
this day of many books and miscellaneous reading. I think this book, if
read and pondered, as you recommend, would do a vast amount of good to
those who are seeking intellectual improvement.” The book referred to
is Chautauqua Text-book No. 25, price 10 cents. Title, “Self-Education:
What to Do and How to Do It.”
* * * * *
Why shall not our afflicted and faithful fellow student have a hearing
in THE CHAUTAUQUAN? Here is what she wrote last August: “If you have
time, will you say for me to the members of the C. L. S. C. that a
few of the women of Hot Springs, Arkansas, are trying to establish
there a Woman’s Christian National Library Association? We use the
word ‘National’ because it is a place of resort for the people of the
entire country, because the town is in part owned by the government,
and because we seek assistance from good people everywhere. The
work is in no sense a _local_ one. Probably no town exists in the
country having greater need in this direction. Men visit the place by
thousands annually, and find almost nothing to uplift—but saloons and
gambling-dens by the score. Our ladies feel that something _must_ be
done to make things better. Our organization has been in existence
eighteen months. We have about nine hundred dollars in the treasury,
and one hundred volumes of books. Better than all, on July 1st Congress
passed a special act allowing us to purchase a lot on the government
reservation for a merely nominal sum, so that we now have one hundred
feet front on the main avenue, for which we paid one hundred dollars.
Upon this we propose to put up a brick building worth ten thousand
dollars, to be used for a public library, reading-room, and a hall in
which to give entertainments, lectures, etc. We are working hard to
accomplish this result. Any help from Chautauquans, either in donations
of money, however small, or in books, will be most gratefully received.
Books can be sent by mail to my address, or by freight at my expense.
_One book_ from one of our class may save some young man from an hour
of temptation. May I not plead for a little help in trying to bring
‘life and light’ even to Arkansas. I enclose circular.
“Yours very truly,
HATTIE N. YOUNG, President Library Association.”
* * * * *
A member writes: “My horizon is very dark just now, but there is a
quotation that I believe, ‘He is weak who can not weave the tangled
threads of his existence, however strained, or however torn or twisted,
into the great cable of purpose which moors us to our life of action.’”
* * * * *
Members of the C. L. S. C. who desire to send geological, and
mineralogical and other specimens, weighing not more than ten pounds,
should send to the “Museum, Chautauqua, N. Y., care of A. K. Warren,
Esq.”
* * * * *
Members of the class of 1882, who paid all fees but did not graduate,
can, by simply completing the unfinished work of their four years’
course, and reporting to the office at Plainfield, graduate with the
class of 1883 or any later one. No additional fee will be required.
* * * * *
Encourage your neighbors to take up some of the reading of the C. L. S.
C. Ask them to try the book for the current month; or the Bryant or the
Shakspere Course.
* * * * *
The following are the addresses of manufacturers of badges for the
C. L. S. C.: Mrs. Jay W. Speelman, Wooster, Ohio, and Henry Hart,
Lockport, N. Y.
* * * * *
A student of the C. L. S. C. writes: “I have commenced the study of
Greek history, but not having a good memory I find the dates hard to
retain in my mind. Will you please give a plan by which our study in
this line may be made easier.” It does not make much difference whether
you can remember dates or not. Link men who did great things in their
proper chronological order. Know that one man who did this, followed
by a few years or centuries another man who did that other great thing.
Use the little Chautauqua Text-book of Greek History, No. 5. Repeat its
outlines, then repeat and repeat again. Get a few facts; tell them to
somebody; tell them to somebody else. Talk about them; then talk more
about them. The true way to memorize is to commit to memory.
* * * * *
When a choice volume falls into my hands I feel like calling attention
of the members of the C. L. S. C. to it. Here comes a beautiful little
book, with an introduction by Lyman Abbott, published by Putnam’s
Sons, New York, on “How to Succeed”—in public life, as a minister, as
a physician, as an engineer, as an artist, in mercantile life, as a
farmer, as an inventor, and in literature. The several chapters are so
many essays written by Senators Bayard and Edmunds, Drs. John Hall,
Willard Parker, and Leopold Damrosch, General William Sooy Smith, W.
Hamilton Gibson, Lawson Valentine, Commissioner George B. Loring,
Thomas Edison, E. P. Roe, and Dr. Lyman Abbott. It is an invaluable
book, and our readers will make no mistake in reading it. Price, 50
cents.
* * * * *
When reading a book mark on the margin every word of the pronunciation
of which you are not sure, and every allusion and statement you do not
fully understand. Take all such words, allusions, and statements to the
local circle and ask for light, or if you have no local circle send
them to “Drawer 75, New Haven, Conn.,” and I will try to get light for
you from stars of one magnitude or another that shine in the heavens of
the C. L. S. C.
* * * * *
Collect engravings and prints of every kind, from book-stalls, old
books, illustrated papers and magazines, relating in any way to the
reading of the C. L. S. C. in art, biography, history, natural science,
etc. A picture scrap-book of this kind, filled with notes in your own
handwriting, would grow in value with the years.
* * * * *
Probe people on the subjects in which you are interested. Get all out
of them you can; and you can always get something out of everybody.
* * * * *
Gilbert M. Tucker, in _The North American Review_ for January, speaks
of “American English” in this way: “It will hardly be denied in any
quarter that the speech of the United States is quite unlike that
of Great Britain, in the important particular that here we have no
dialects. Trifling variations in pronunciation, and in the use of
a few particular words, certainly exist. The Yankee ‘expects’ or
‘calculates,’ while the Virginian ‘reckons;’ the illiterate Northerner
‘claims,’ and the Southerner of similar class, by a very curious
reversal of the blunder, ‘allows,’ what better educated people merely
assert. The pails and pans of the world at large become ‘buckets’
when taken to Kentucky. It is ‘evening’ in Richmond, while afternoon
still lingers a hundred miles due north at Washington. Vessels go into
‘docks’ on their arrival at Philadelphia, but into ‘slips’ at Mobile;
they are tied up at ‘wharves’ at Boston, but to ‘piers’ at Chicago.
Distances are measured by ‘squares’ in Baltimore, by ‘blocks’ in
Providence. The ‘shilling’ of New York is the ‘levy’ of Pennsylvania,
the ‘bit’ of San Francisco, the ‘ninepence’ of Old New England, and the
‘escalan’ of New Orleans. But put all these variations together, with
such others as more careful examination might reveal, and how far short
they fall of representing anything like the real dialectic differences
of speech that obtain, and always have obtained, not only between
the three kingdoms, but even between contiguous sections of England
itself!”
LOCAL CIRCLES.
[We request the president or secretary of every local circle
to send us reports of their work, of lectures, concerts,
entertainments, etc. Editor of THE CHAUTAUQUAN, Meadville,
Pa.]
“Days come and go much more pleasantly when our time is fully
occupied.”—_Gessner._
* * * * *
“The pleasantest society is that where the members feel a warm respect
for each other.”—_Goethe._
* * * * *
“It is a beautiful thought, that however far one shore may be from
another, the wave that ripples over my foot will in a short time be on
the opposite strand.”—_Humboldt._
* * * * *
=Maine (Auburn).=—We have here in Auburn, a thriving town on the banks
of the Androscoggin, a band of twenty-five enthusiastic Chautauquans.
We organized November 3, 1882. We meet once in two weeks, at the houses
of members, and recite fifty questions upon previous reading, as
published in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. The questions for further study have been
taken up, and will receive attention at our next meeting. The game of
“Grecian History” has been tried once, with so much pleasure and profit
that we shall probably have it again. Bryant’s and Milton’s Day have
been pleasantly observed, and we also voted to observe the birthday of
our own beloved Longfellow, who is peculiarly dear to New Englanders.
Our circle is composed of people professional and unprofessional,
denominational and literary, but all are working together with much
unanimity of feeling and interest.
* * * * *
=Massachusetts (Westfield).=—Our circle is composed of three members,
all graduates of class of 1882, but taking the White Crystal Seal
course. Our meetings are very informal, reading either required or
supplemental articles. This is a small village and we do not have
lectures or concerts.
* * * * *
=Massachusetts (Conway).=—A local circle was organized in this town
September 26, 1882, with twenty-five members. A few others who do
not join the circle have taken up the readings. The Baptist and
Congregationalist ministers are among our members. We have a board of
counselors to act with the president in making meetings interesting. We
are up with the required readings, and enjoy our meetings exceedingly.
We meet Friday evenings at the homes of members of the Circle. We used
Pansy’s book, “The Hall in the Grove,” to work up our interest, and
some of us went to South Framingham last August, to get some new ideas;
hence our success in a small hill town of Massachusetts.
* * * * *
=Rhode Island (Providence).=—A local Circle was formed in Providence in
October last, and is called the Hope Circle. Starting with a membership
of nineteen, we have since increased the number to thirty-three. Every
four weeks we appoint a committee to conduct the exercises for the next
month. We have had several lectures on geology, and propose having from
time to time lectures on subjects that will interest the circle.
* * * * *
=Connecticut (Hockanum).=—A feature of the four years’ reading course
of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle, is the observance of
certain memorial days. These are made the happy occasions of literary
and social festivity among the fraternity and their friends. December
9th occurred John Milton’s day. It was observed by the C. L. S. C.
of Hockanum, numbering about thirty members in both circles, Monday
evening the 11th, in the vestry of the Congregational church. In
response to an invitation from the Hockanum local circle to the local
circle of the M. E. Church in Hockanum, it became the pleasant occasion
of union memorial exercises. After a few well-chosen words of greeting
to the sister circle by C. B. Treat, the Rev. W. P. Stoddard, president
of the M. E. circle, read Job 28th and was followed by the Rev. Mr.
Macy in prayer. Mr. Treat then gave a scholarly address on the “Times
of Milton;” Miss Adela Risley an interesting sketch of the “Life of
Milton,” and Miss Ellen M. Brewer an excellent paper on the “Works of
the Poet.” A gem was an essay on “Comus” by Mr. Stoddard. The argument
and a choice and well-rendered selection from each of the books of
Paradise Lost were given by the different members of the Hockanum
circle. The closing exercises consisted of extracts of pleasing
continuity from “Samson Agonistes,” Milton’s last poetical work, given
with much point by Messrs. Stoddard, Forbes, Brewer and Arnusius, Mrs.
C. Hollister, and Misses Alexander and Hollister of the M. E. circle.
The program closed with singing a part of the inspiring class song,
entitled “A Song of To-day:”
“Sing pæans over the past!
We bury the dead years tenderly,
To find them again in eternity,
All safe in its circle vast.
Sing pæans over the past!
Arise and conquer the land!
Not one shall fail in the march of life;
Not one shall fall in the hour of strife
Who trusts in the Lord’s right hand,
Arise and conquer the land!”
Immediately after a bountiful collation was served in a style most
creditable to the committee in charge, and seldom has there been more
genuine sociality. During the sociable, Mr. and Mrs. J. P. Cornish
furnished sweet music. The room was aglow with light and color, and
draping and ornamentation were suggestive of sentiment, study and
religion. Upon entering, the eye was instantly arrested by a superb
representation of the Chautauquan’s _alma mater_, “The Hall in the
Grove,” mounted on an evergreen wreathed easel. It was executed in
charcoal, especially for the occasion, by the Rev. H. Macy, a senior at
Hosmer Hall, and acting pastor of the Congregational Church. Upon being
called upon he made some felicitous remarks on the “Hall in the Grove,”
which elicited applause. The circle and guests, numbering about sixty,
felt that the event had been truly a success.
* * * * *
=Connecticut (Portland).=—This is the first year of the local circle
in Portland, Connecticut, and it numbers at the present time seven
members, of three different denominations. Our circle was organized
on the fifth day of December, 1882. Our officers are president,
vice-president, and secretary. We have met thus far every Saturday
evening. We endeavor to bring in something on all the subjects taken up
in the required work, making a specialty of the questions and answers
printed in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. The president either asks the questions, or
appoints some one of the members as leader _pro tem_. All are requested
to criticise freely. After the program is concluded, all are at liberty
to ask any questions they wish in connection with the subjects taken
up in the evening’s work. Before adjournment, a short time is given to
general conversation, on the most interesting topics in the evening’s
lesson. As yet we have had no essays, but these are to come in the
future. Last year there was only one member (myself) of the C. L. S. C.
in the town of Portland. This year Portland boasts of a local circle
consisting of seven members, and already the influence of those seven
is being felt throughout the town, and we fondly hope and expect that
before 1883 dawns our circle will have increased to almost double its
present size. The students of the Portland C. L. S. C. anticipate many
pleasant hours of work and social intercourse in the weeks and years to
come.
* * * * *
=New York (Prattsburg).=—Our local circle is one of great interest. Our
members number nine. We meet weekly, at the homes of different members.
The meetings open with prayer, followed by roll-call, minutes of the
last meeting, and then the lesson. The lessons are conducted by one
appointed at a previous meeting, so each one takes a part in conducting
some lesson. In geology we had many beautiful specimens of coral,
trilobites, and brachiopods, which were very interesting, and helped
so much to explain the lesson. We observe memorial days. For Milton’s
Day we had, in answer to roll-call, favorite selections from Milton, an
essay by our vice-president on his life, and one on his life and work
by our president. We vary the work, and try to make it interesting to
all. What would we do without THE CHAUTAUQUAN and our Chautauqua circle!
* * * * *
=New York (Troy).=—Here is the program for one evening in a local
circle in Troy, the Rev. H. C. Farrar, president. It is printed on
a postal card: “(1) Greek Civilization—Lewis K. Moore; (2) Greek
Home Life—Miss Hattie E. Dean; (3) Greek Art—Mrs. H. C. Farrar; (4)
Round-Table, Questions, Words, Sentences, etc.; (5) John Milton—a
_conversazione_. Our circle organizes promptly at 7:30 o’clock. Make
unessential things give way to our monthly gatherings. Our program
is largely Greek. So is our month’s reading. Greece has mightily
influenced all nations and ages. Let us make a specialty of Greek
this and next month. Master thoroughly the questions and answers on
pages 164-66 in the December CHAUTAUQUAN. Mr. Mulford will ask most of
them. Bring written questions, words, anything and everything for our
Round-Table that will prove of interest.”
* * * * *
=New York (Panama).=—A local circle was formed in Panama, New York, in
October, 1878, through the efforts of a few residents of our village
who were present at Chautauqua and became members of the organization
at its inception in August of the same year. Weekly meetings of the
circle were regularly kept up during the four years succeeding, and in
August last twelve members were gratified to receive at the hand of Dr.
Vincent, the beautiful Chautauqua diplomas. In October of this year
another circle was formed, consisting of most of the members of the old
circle, who could not bear to abandon so profitable and pleasurable
a course of reading, and several new members, and we are now holding
weekly meetings, as in the years past. The officers constitute the
executive board, who arrange the program for each meeting, selecting
leaders. Our work is done thoroughly, and we have the satisfaction of
feeling the inspiration that comes from work accomplished. The memorial
days are occasionally observed by special meetings of the circle, at
which time a special program, prepared for the occasion, is carried
out. We extend to every sister circle the hand of fellowship and of
hearty greeting, with the wish that, as the years go by, we may all
learn more of the word and the works of God.
* * * * *
=Pennsylvania (Sugar Grove).=—This is the fifth year of the local
circle in Sugar Grove, Warren County, Pa., and it numbers fifteen
members, ten of whom are graduates of the Class of ’82. For the first
four years our meetings were held weekly, but the past year a normal
class, under the auspices of the C. L. S. C. has been organized, which
meets once in two weeks, our circle meeting each alternate week. The
manner of reviewing the lessons varies. The conductor usually asks
questions, which are discussed by any member. This is followed by
essays, question drawer, report of critic, _conversazione_, Chautauqua
games, or any exercise conducive to our mutual improvement. During the
study of geology our meetings have been made interesting by the use
of Packard’s Geological Charts, and by examining cabinets of rocks
and shells, and also collecting various specimens, thereby forming a
nucleus for greater research. The observance of a memorial day falls on
the regular circle evening nearest memorial date.
* * * * *
=Pennsylvania (Shamokin).=—This is the first year of our local
circle in Shamokin. We have held four regular meetings since the 1st
of November and now have eight members. We have but two officers,
a president and secretary, and meet every Tuesday evening at the
homes of the different members. Thus far the president has conducted
the meetings, asking questions on the lesson, when the topics are
freely discussed by all. By not starting at the required time we find
ourselves behind in our studies, almost two months; but by taking our
regular weekly lessons, and as much of the back reading as we can
conveniently, we expect to catch up by the first of March.
* * * * *
=Pennsylvania (Carlisle).=—Our methods have been very informal, and
my report must of necessity be of a similar nature. We are not a
circle—only a triangle. Since October of last year “we three” have
quietly read and studied the prescribed course, meeting usually once
a week and comparing progress. Frequently one of our number asked
the questions as published in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, and in answering them
we enlarged upon the subjects suggested thereby. At other times we
discussed the matter read. We observed each memorial day and enjoyed
them, as indeed we have enjoyed our year’s work. We have worked
together without being “officered,” for it would badly thin the ranks
to take even one from the “privates.” We feel the need of an energetic,
enthusiastic leader, who could help us in our work, and enlist others;
but failing to find one, we enter upon our second year’s work even more
deeply interested than we were a year ago, determined to finish the
course, unless prevented by insurmountable obstacles.
* * * * *
=New Jersey (Freehold).=—We organized a circle of twelve young ladies
here last year, and we are still pursuing the course laid out for
the C. L. S. C. We are all living at home, and are what some call
“ladies of leisure.” The course is taken more as a line of profitable
reading than of hard study. We meet at each other’s houses every
Tuesday afternoon, and one of our number acts as teacher, or rather
questioner. She asks the questions laid down in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, and
after they have been answered, we read the article in the required
readings for the week, taking turns around, a paragraph each, and
after each paragraph has been read the others informally criticise the
pronunciation of the reader, (good naturedly, of course), and so, with
the aid of Webster, we arrive at the correct pronunciation of words in
common use. Any knotty questions which come up are laid over until the
next meeting; in the meantime we find out the answers if we can. By the
way, a large Shakspere club of ladies and gentlemen has grown from a
movement made by one of our number, and taken up by us as a class, and
already one question on art has been given us to answer from outside.
You see we are beginning to make ourselves felt in the community. We
find the course doing us good, and advise others to take it up as we
have, as a pleasant way to refresh their memories on what they have
already learned in school, if they do not care to devote their time to
study.
* * * * *
=District of Columbia (Washington).=—Ours is one of several Chautauqua
circles in Washington, D. C. We have named it the “Parker” C. L. S.
C., in honor of Rev. Dr. J. W. Parker. We organized September 15,
1882, with a membership of ten; we now number twenty-five and are
still increasing. We meet at the houses of the members, twice a month;
open with prayer. The readings are reviewed by questions from THE
CHAUTAUQUAN. Our reading in geology was supplemented by explanations,
with the use of the Packard plates. Great interest is manifested by the
members, who feel that they are being benefited. The meetings close
with general questions and talks upon scientific subjects.
* * * * *
=West Virginia (Wheeling).=—Our circle has now entered its third year
and numbers twenty-seven members. The meetings are held every week
in one of the small rooms in the United Presbyterian Church and are
well attended. The method hitherto pursued has been to assign lessons
out of THE CHAUTAUQUAN, and then proceed very much as at school.
Subjects pertinent to the lessons are fully and freely discussed as
they are suggested, consequently during the past two years the circle
has ranged over a vast territory. At each meeting during the present
year a paper—usually on some historical personage connected with the
lesson—has been read, and this has proved very interesting. The general
drift of sentiment has been rather against public entertainments,
though several successful ones have been given. Visitors are always
welcome. The Wheeling circle has been unusually fortunate in enjoying
the leadership of a gentleman who is at once a business man, an
enthusiastic scholar and a teacher, with a genius for the art. Under
his able tuition, interest in the various studies has never faltered.
Comparatively few of the members have visited Chautauqua; those who
have done so have returned very enthusiastic in C. L. S. C. work.
* * * * *
=Kentucky (Louisville).=—Being more and more interested in the
French Circle, I would like very much to have in your magazine a few
lines about it, viz: all the information about the French Circle by
correspondence can be obtained by addressing Prof. A. Lalande, 1014
Second street, Louisville, Ky. Back numbers of circular will be sent to
anyone desiring to join that circle.
* * * * *
=Tennessee (Memphis).=—A local circle was organized October 23, in
Chelsea, the northern suburb of Memphis. It consists of a few members
of the classes of ’82, ’83, and ’84, who once belonged to the Memphis
local circle, and a larger number of members who have only last fall
joined the C. L. S. C. The Memphis circle had become too large to be
well handled for effective work, so we left, and organized a circle
in our own immediate neighborhood of twenty-five members. We are to
meet twice a month, and expect to do good work, as we are enthusiastic
Chautauquans.
* * * * *
=Texas (Palestine).=—We have a local circle in our town, twenty strong,
that will compare in average intelligence of its members with any other
club in the United States. The Chautauqua Idea is growing grandly in
Texas. Our State will be fairly represented in all future commencements
of the C. L. S. C. Clubs are forming in all points of the Lone Star.
* * * * *
=Indiana (Fort Wayne).=—The C. L. S. C. met in October in the
lecture-room of the Berry Street Church, to organize for work during
the ensuing year. The attendance was unexpectedly large, and the
meeting was spirited. It was decided to divide up into small circles
for work, yet continue the general organization, and to that end
officers were elected. It is expected that members of the circle will
connect themselves with some one of the smaller circles that may
be organized, and continue the readings. The smaller circles were
organized at once, and work for the year is going on.
* * * * *
=Illinois (Pana).=—Our local circle was organized in October, 1879.
The class now numbers fourteen ladies, meeting at each other’s homes
weekly. Three are post-graduates, and two or three others of the Class
of ’82, who intend sending in their papers soon. We are not, as a
class, this year taking the full course, but using THE CHAUTAUQUAN.
We find the work very pleasant and instructive, and enjoy it too much
to give it up. We have had no entertainments except social teas among
ourselves.
* * * * *
=Michigan (Flint).=—A local circle has been organized here for reading
and study. There are only eight members, but several others in the city
who have commenced the work, and will probably continue it, meet with
us occasionally and seem to enjoy doing so. Being scattered over the
city, it is impossible for them to attend the meetings regularly. For
this reason they prefer not to join the circle. There are, I think,
twenty, or nearly that number, reading the Chautauqua course in our
city. Our meetings are held once in two weeks at the homes of different
members of the circle. The president conducts the review at each
meeting and plans the work for the next meeting with the concurrence
of the other officers. Our reading and study is done mainly at home,
the time of the meeting being taken up with a thorough review of the
subjects studied, varied by biographical sketches of the historical
characters, and expression of opinion upon the subjects in hand. The
interest in the work increases with each meeting; we enjoy it so much
more and remember it better than we possibly could reading and studying
alone.
* * * * *
=Michigan (Little Prairie Ronde).=—The character of the material of
which a local circle is formed, and with which it has to do, in a
measure determines the manner of conducting its meetings. In glancing
over the reports of various circles I see none whose meetings are
conducted quite the same as ours. Living in the country, and our
members having from two to four miles to drive, we strive to use all
the time in earnest work, directly connected with the subjects being
studied; hence our roll call responses are biographical sketches of men
whose names are found in the history; the history of cities, etc., and
on a memorial day selected extracts from the writings of the author
whose birth we commemorate. Besides essays, readings and conversations
on subjects in the course, we have introduced “current items,” not only
because outsiders not fully informed intimated that we study ancient
history too exclusively, but, also, as it is an excellent means of
interesting our local members and casual visitors who are not pursuing
the prescribed course of reading. The items comprise recent newspaper
intelligences, and never fail to elicit much enthusiasm and profit.
* * * * *
=Missouri (Osborn).=—Our circle, called the “Amphictyonic Local Circle,
of Osborn,” consists of eight members, including four officers,
president, vice-president, secretary, and treasurer. We meet on every
Tuesday afternoon, at the home of one of the members, our hours being
from 7 p. m. to 9:45 p. m. We have a constitution and by-laws, and
adhere strictly to the rules of order laid down in Roberts’ Manual. The
program is as follows: After the minutes of the previous meeting are
read and discussed, Greek history is taken up and reviewed in detail.
The required reading in THE CHAUTAUQUAN follows, after which our
president gives us an interesting lecture on some important subject.
Twenty minutes are devoted to the reading of short essays, and whatever
time remains we spend in discussing the chief topics of interest in THE
CHAUTAUQUAN.
* * * * *
=Missouri (Kansas City).=—Our circle organized the 21st of October,
with the circle of last year, consisting of five or six members, as a
nucleus. We have now a membership of over forty-five, which will soon
be largely increased. Ten new members joined at the last meeting. A
good deal of interest and enthusiasm is manifested. Our officers are
a board of three directors, a corresponding secretary, and treasurer.
The board of directors have a general oversight of all the interests
of the circle. They arrange for all lectures, special meetings,
memorial day exercises, and appoint a committee of three to arrange a
program of exercises for the regular meetings of the month, which are
presided over by the chairman of this monthly committee. The circle
meets every Tuesday evening at the residence of one of the members
centrally located, who has very kindly thrown open his house for the
use of the circle. We open our meeting at 7:30 p. m., promptly, with
singing and prayer, followed by roll call and reading of the minutes.
The members are then ready for the general exercises of the evening,
consisting of answers to the questions for the week in THE CHAUTAUQUAN,
of answers to written questions given out at the previous meeting, of
essays and talks on themes relating to our readings, of exercises on
the geological charts, music, critic’s report, social conversation, and
adjournment.
* * * * *
=Minnesota (Crookston).=—We can not claim the dignity of a local circle
yet. Our class consists of two members, the wife of the editor of
the Crookston _Chronicle_ and the writer, who is one of the teachers
of the graded school in Crookston. We are delighted with the course,
studied faithfully and well last year, and have commenced this year
with renewed pleasure and zeal. We met for reading, recitation and
conversation weekly last year and will pursue the same course this year
unless our class should become a circle. We have the promise of several
members.
* * * * *
=Iowa (Muscatine).=—The editor of a local paper characterizes an
entertainment of the local circles in this way: “Seldom has an occasion
been appropriated to a more pleasant or profitable purpose than that
which attracted a large number of our more cultivated people to the
cheery apartments of Mr. A. K. Raff one evening of last month. It
was the two hundred and seventy-fourth anniversary of the birth of
John Milton, and the two Chautauqua clubs in the city had united to
memorialize the event in some appropriate way. A splendid program of
exercises, consisting of dissertation and essay, interspersed with the
finest of music, both vocal and instrumental, had been arranged for the
occasion, furnishing to those who were fortunate enough to be present
a fund of interest, and a feast of intellectual enjoyment as rare as
it was acceptable. We can imagine no entertainment more pleasant or
elevating in its character than these Chautauqua reunions.”
* * * * *
=Iowa (Oskaloosa).=—The circle of Oskaloosa consists of fifteen
ladies—ten regular members and five local ones. We meet every Wednesday
afternoon and a leader is appointed by the president for each week. We
have thorough schoolroom recitations and discussions of the lesson as
assigned in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, and the questions for further study.
* * * * *
=Kansas (Stockton).=—The most satisfactory method we have found of
conducting our circle is this: Let each member prepare two plain
questions, not puzzles, on the reading of the week. Let these questions
be handed to the president, who asks them, the author of the questions
answering if no one else can, and no one but the chairman needs to
know who hands in any question. This review helps to fix many points
in memory. Besides, we had nearly every time one or more essays from
persons having time and inclination to prepare them.
* * * * *
=Kansas (Wichita).=—For more than six months we have had a literary and
philosophical society, with objects somewhat similar to those of the
C. L. S. C., with a working membership of twenty or more. At our last
meeting the merits of the C. L. S. C. were discussed at length, and
we concluded to change our organization into the C. L. S. C., and the
preliminary steps were taken in accordance therewith. Will you please
send us by return mail two dozen blank applications for membership,
and whatever other documents and instructions are necessary for
organization and work.
* * * * *
=Nebraska (Seward).=—We meet every Monday evening; the regular order
as laid down in THE CHAUTAUQUAN is carried through; we keep up in the
different branches from month to month, and enjoy the work.
* * * * *
=California (Sacramento).=—Our method of conducting the work, after
disposing of the general order of business, is as follows: The
committee of instruction, numbering three, and appointed once in three
months, prepare one week in advance questions on each lesson. These
questions are drawn promiscuously by each member—questions being, sent
to absentees. Answers to these questions, with the questions attached
thereto, are given in writing at the following meeting, to some one
appointed by the president to read, after which they are placed in the
hands of two members, who are also appointed by the president, from
which they are to compile papers, adding all such other information
appertaining to the subject that can be obtained. This involves close
research, and we hear from at least five members in an evening, who
are followed in the same manner by five others at the succeeding
meeting. From the papers, questions, and answers, arise profitable
discussions, if time permits. A committee on entertainment, appointed
annually, supervise all lectures, concerts, social entertainments,
etc., which—if practicable—are arranged for once in three months. We
number twenty-four active members. Eight other names are upon our roll,
of whom three are irregular. We launch out this (the third) year with
much enthusiasm and general interest, hoping to far exceed in profit to
ourselves and in influence in favor of our grand Chautauqua work either
of the preceding years.
* * * * *
=Canada (Pictou, Ontario).=—About twenty members of the C. L. S. C. met
at the residence of G. C. Curry, Esq., recently, to compare notes and
talk over matters connected with their daily readings. Considerable
enthusiasm was manifested by the several members respecting the
subjects on the program for the present year, which began on the 1st
of October last. Some, however, have only just joined, and it is
not too late yet for new ones to join and take up the work for the
current year. At the next meeting of the circle notes will be read
on the month’s reading and difficulties met with brought forward for
explanation.
[_Not Required._]
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.
ONE HUNDRED QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS ON “RECREATIONS IN
ASTRONOMY,” CHAPTERS I TO VII, BOTH INCLUSIVE—CREATIVE
PROCESSES, CREATIVE PROGRESS, ASTRONOMICAL INSTRUMENTS,
CELESTIAL MEASUREMENTS; THE SUN; THE PLANETS, AS SEEN FROM
SPACE; SHOOTING-STARS, METEORS, AND COMETS.
By ALBERT M. MARTIN, GENERAL SECRETARY C. L. S. C.
1. Q. What are the two laws of the attraction of gravitation? A. (1)
Gravity is proportioned to the quantity of matter, and (2) the force
of gravity varies as the square of the distance from the center of the
attracting body.
2. Q. What is the original form of matter? A. Gas.
3. Q. What is inertia? A. If a body is at rest, inertia is that quality
by which it will forever remain so, unless acted upon by some force
from without; and if a body is in motion, it will continue on at the
same speed, in a straight line, forever, unless it is quickened,
retarded, or turned from its path by some other force.
4. Q. What is the result of the action of attraction and inertia upon
two revolving bodies? A. They circle about each other as long as these
forces endure.
5. Q. What would be the solution of the problem of a simple revolution
of one world about another in a circular orbit? A. It would always be
at the same distance from its center, and going with the same velocity.
6. Q. In the case of the moon, how many causes are there that interfere
with such a simple orbit? A. Over sixty.
7. Q. What is heat? A. A mode of motion.
8. Q. Through what do all the light and heat of the sun that appear
upon our earth come? A. Through space that is two hundred degrees below
zero, and through utter darkness.
9. Q. At what velocity does light travel? A. One hundred and
eighty-five thousand miles per second.
10. Q. What is the highest velocity we can give a rifle ball? A. Two
thousand feet a second.
11. Q. How long does it take light to travel from the sun to the earth?
A. About eight minutes.
12. Q. What is light? A. The result of undulations in ether.
13. Q. What are the different effects we call color? A. They are simply
various velocities of vibration.
14. Q. How does sunlight melt ice? A. In the middle, bottom, and top at
once.
15. Q. What is the effect of dark heat on ice? A. It only melts the
surface.
16. Q. What can you say of the passage of the heat of the sun and the
heat of a furnace or stove through glass? A. Nearly all the heat of the
sun goes through glass without hindrance; only a small portion of the
heat of a furnace or stove goes through the same substance.
17. Q. If our air were as pervious to the heat of the earth as it is to
the heat of the sun, how cold would the temperature of the earth become
every night? A. Two hundred degrees below zero.
18. Q. What is said of worlds so distant as to receive from the
sun only a thousandth part of the heat we enjoy? A. They may have
atmospheres that retain it all.
19. Q. What is probable as to the temperature of Mars? A. It is
probable that Mars, that receives but one-quarter as much heat as the
earth, has a temperature as high as ours.
20. Q. What two radically different kinds of telescopes are made? A.
The refracting telescope, and the reflecting telescope.
21. Q. Why is the refracting telescope so called? A. Because it is
dependent on the refraction of light through glass lenses.
22. Q. Why is the reflecting telescope so called? A. Because it acts by
reflecting the light from a concave mirror.
23. Q. What is the loss of light in the use of each kind of telescope?
A. In passing through glass lenses it is about two-tenths. By
reflection it is often one-half.
24. Q. In view of this peculiarity, among others, what is held as to
the comparative quality of the two kinds of telescopes? A. That a
twenty-six inch refractor is fully equal to any six-foot reflector.
25. Q. What is the weight of the Lord Rosse reflecting telescope? A. It
has a metallic mirror weighing six tons, and a tube forty feet long,
which, with its appurtenances, weighs seven tons more.
26. Q. What is a spectrum? A. A collection of the colors which are
dispersed by a prism from any given light.
27. Q. If the light is sunlight what is the spectrum called? A. A solar
spectrum.
28. Q. What is a spectroscope? A. An instrument to see these spectra.
29. Q. What are some of the amazing discoveries made by the
spectroscope within a few years? A. In chemistry it reveals substances
never known before. It tells the chemical constitution of the sun, the
movements taking place, the nature of comets, and nebulæ.
30. Q. By the spectroscope what do we know of the atmospheres of some
of the other planets? A. We know that the atmospheres of Venus and Mars
are like our own, and that those of Jupiter and Saturn are very unlike.
31. Q. From what are all our standards of time taken? A. From the stars.
32. Q. From what are the positions of the stars reckoned? A. As so many
degrees, minutes and seconds from each other, from the zenith, or from
a given meridian, or from the equator.
33. Q. How far apart are the stars called the Pointers in the Great
Bear? A. Five degrees.
34. Q. To mistake the breadth of a hair, seen at a distance of one
hundred and twenty-five feet, would cause how much of an error in
the measurement of the distance of the sun from the earth? A. Three
millions of miles.
35. Q. By means of a microscope how many lines ruled on a glass plate
are we able to count within an inch? A. One hundred and twelve thousand.
36. Q. What angle does the smallest object that can be seen by a keen
eye make? A. An angle of forty seconds.
37. Q. By putting six microscopes on the scale of the telescope on a
mural circle, what degree of exactness are we able to reach? A. An
exactness of one-tenth of a second, or one-thirty-six hundredth of an
inch.
38. Q. In astronomical work how small measurements of time are made? A.
To the minute fractional parts of a second.
39. Q. What is the personal equation of an observer? A. The time that
it takes him to observe a thing and record it, which is substracted
from all his observations in order to get at the true time.
40. Q. What is the parallax of a body? A. The angle that would be made
by two lines coming from that body to the two ends of any conventional
base, as the semi-diameter of the earth.
41. Q. What is the parallax of the moon, and also of the sun, with the
semi-equatorial diameter of the earth for a base? A. That of the moon
57 seconds, and that of the nun 8.85 seconds.
42. Q. Taking the diameter of the earth’s orbit, 184 millions of miles,
as a base, what can you say of the parallax of the stars? A. They have
no apparent parallax on so short a base.
43. Q. What does Prof. Airy say of the orbit of the earth as seen from
the nearest star? A. It would be the same as a circle six-tenths of an
inch in diameter, seen at the distance of a mile.
44. Q. In what way has the approximate distance of a few of the stars
been determined? A. By comparisons of the near and far stars one with
another.
45. Q. Which is the nearest star? A. The brightest star in Centaur,
never visible in our northern latitudes, which has a parallax of about
one second.
46. Q. Which is the next nearest star? A. No. 61 in the Swan, or 61
Cygni, having a parallax of thirty-four one-hundredths of a second.
47. Q. On how many stars have approximate measurements been made? A.
About eighteen in all.
48. Q. How long does it take light, traveling at the rate of 185,000
miles a second, to come from the nearest star, Alpha Centauri, to the
earth? A. Three and one-fourth years.
49. Q. How long does it take light to come from the Pole Star to the
earth? A. Forty-five years.
50. Q. In naming these enormous distances what astronomical unit is
used? A. The distance of the earth from the sun, ninety-two and a half
millions of miles.
51. Q. In measuring the distance from Alpha Centauri, the nearest star,
how many times would this unit be used? A. Two hundred and twenty-six
thousand times.
52. Q. What is said of the stars being near or far according to their
brightness? A. They are not near or far according to their brightness.
61 Cygni is a telescopic star, while Sirius, the brightest star in the
heavens, is twice as far away from us.
53. Q. What is the zodiacal light? A. It is a dim, soft light, somewhat
like the milky-way, seen on clear moonless nights in March or April, in
the western sky soon after sunset, often reaching, well defined, to the
Pleiades.
54. Q. What are the indications as to the cause of this light? A. That
it is caused by a ring of small masses of meteoric matter surrounding
the sun, revolving with it and reflecting its light, and extending
beyond the earth’s orbit.
55. Q. As we approach nearer the sun what is the first material
substance with which we meet? A. The corona.
56. Q. Describe the corona. A. It rises from one to three hundred
thousand miles from the surface, and the appearance consists of
reflected light sent to us from dust particles or meteoroids about the
sun.
57. Q. What is the region of discontinuous flame below the corona
called? A. The cromosphere.
58. Q. What are some of the materials composing the cromosphere? A.
Hydrogen is the principal material of its upper part; iron, magnesium,
and other metals, some of them as yet unknown on earth, in the denser
parts below.
59. Q. When only are the corona and cromosphere visible? A. Only during
total eclipses, or by the aid of the spectroscope.
60. Q. What is all that we ordinarily see with the eye or telescope of
the sun? A. The shining surface called the photosphere on which the
cromosphere rests.
61. Q. What is the diameter of the photosphere, or the visible and
measurable part of the sun? A. Eight hundred and sixty thousand miles.
62. Q. How many globes like the earth would it require to measure the
sun’s diameter? A. One hundred and eight.
63. Q. What is the volume of the sun as compared with that of the
earth? A. It is 1,245,000 times greater.
64. Q. What is the density of the sun as compared with that of the
earth? A. It is only one-fourth as great.
65. Q. What is the mass of the sun as compared with that of all the
planets, asteroids, and satellites of the solar system put together?
A. It is seven hundred times as great.
66. Q. What are some of the opinions as to the surface of the sun? A.
That it is hot beyond all estimate is indubitable. Whether it is solid
or gaseous we are not sure.
67. Q. What on the surface of the sun have been objects of earnest and
almost hourly study on the part of eminent astronomers for years? A.
The spots.
68. Q. To what must the speed of the orbital revolution of the planets
be proportioned? A. To the distance from the sun.
69. Q. What is the orbital speed of Mercury, and what that of Neptune?
A. That of Mercury is about twenty-nine and a half miles in a second,
and that of Neptune about three and one-third miles a second, or nearly
nine times as slow.
70. Q. How do the periods of the axial revolution, which determine the
length of the day, vary with the four planets nearest the sun? A. They
vary only half an hour from that of the earth.
71. Q. In what time do Jupiter and Saturn revolve? A. In ten and ten
and a quarter hours respectively.
72. Q. What is the density of Jupiter and Saturn as compared with the
earth? A. That of Jupiter is about one-fourth and that of Saturn is
about one-eighth that of the earth.
73. Q. How much less is the polar diameter of Jupiter than the
equatorial? A. Five thousand miles.
74. Q. If we represent the sun by a globe two feet in diameter, how
could we represent the comparative size of the five planets nearest the
sun? A. Vulcan and Mercury by mustard seeds, Venus and Earth by peas,
and Mars by one half the size.
75. Q. How could the comparative size of the other planets be
represented? A. Asteroids, by the motes in a sunbeam; Jupiter, by a
small-sized orange; Saturn, by a smaller one; Uranus, by a cherry; and
Neptune, by one a little larger.
76. Q. Applying the principle that attraction is in proportion to the
mass, what would a man weighing one hundred and fifty pounds on the
earth weigh on Jupiter, and what on Mars? A. On Jupiter he would weigh
three hundred and ninety-six pounds, and on Mars only fifty-eight
pounds.
77. Q. How are the seasons of the planets caused? A. By the inclination
of its axis to the plane of its orbit.
78. Q. What is said of the day and night of Jupiter? A. The sun is
always nearly over the equator of Jupiter, and every place has nearly
its five hours day and five hours night.
79. Q. How do the seasons of Earth, Mars and Saturn compare? A. They
are much alike, except in length.
80. Q. How long are Saturn’s seasons? A. Each is seven and a half years
long. The alternate darkness and light at the poles is fifteen years
long.
81. Q. In what form are the orbits of the planets? A. Not in the form
of exact circles, but a little flattened into an ellipse, with the sun
always in one of the foci.
82. Q. What is that point called where a planet is nearest the sun,
and what where it is farthest from it? A. The point nearest the sun is
called the perihelion, and the farthest point the aphelion.
83. Q. What is the plane of the ecliptic? A. It is the plane of the
earth’s orbit extended to the stars.
84. Q. What is said of the densities, sizes, and relations of the
collections of matter smaller than the planets, scattered through space
in the solar system? A. They are of various densities, from a cloudlet
of rarest gas to solid rock; of various sizes, from a grain’s weight
to little worlds; of various relations to each other, from independent
individuality to related streams millions of miles long.
85. Q. By what names are they known when they become visible? A.
Shooting-stars, meteors, and comets.
86. Q. How far above the surface of the earth do shooting-stars appear
and disappear? A. They appear about seventy-three miles above the
earth, and disappear about twenty miles nearer the surface.
87. Q. What is their velocity? A. Their average velocity is thirty-five
miles a second, and it sometimes rises to one hundred miles a second.
88. Q. What does Prof. Peirce state as the result of his investigation
in regard to meteors? A. That the heat which the earth receives
directly from meteors is the same in amount which it receives from the
sun by radiation, and that the sun receives five-sixths of its heat
from the meteors that fall upon it.
89. Q. When the bodies are large enough to bear the heat, and the
unconsumed center comes to the earth, what are they called? A.
Aerolites or air-stones.
90. Q. What is said of the distribution of these bodies through space?
A. They are not evenly distributed through space. In some places they
are gathered into systems which circle round the sun in orbits as
certain as those of the planets.
91. Q. How many such systems of meteoric bodies has it been
demonstrated that the earth encounters in a single year? A. More than
one hundred.
92. Q. What are comets? A. They are clouds of gas or meteoric matter,
or both, darting into the solar system from every side, at every plane
of the ecliptic, becoming luminous with reflected light, passing the
sun, and returning again to outer darkness.
93. Q. What appendage do comets usually have? A. A tail, which follows
the comet to perihelion, and precedes it afterwards.
94. Q. What is the character of the orbits of some comets? A. Very
enormously elongated. One end may lie inside the earth’s orbit, and the
other end be as far beyond Neptune as that is from the sun.
95. Q. How many comets have been visible to the naked eye since the
Christian era? A. Five hundred.
96. Q. How many have been seen by telescopes since their invention? A.
Two hundred.
97. Q. How is the number of comets belonging to our solar system
estimated by some authorities? A. By millions.
98. Q. What is the comet last seen in 1852, previously separated into
two parts, called? A. Biela’s lost comet.
99. Q. How near did the great comet of 1843 pass to the sun? A. It
passed nearer than any other known body. It almost grazed the sun.
100. Q. What was one of the most magnificent comets of modern times? A.
Donati’s comet of 1858.
OUTLINE OF C. L. S. C. STUDIES FOR FEBRUARY.
The required C. L. S. C. reading for the month of February comprises
the first part of Bishop Warren’s Recreations in Astronomy, to page
134; the corresponding parts of Chautauqua Text-Book No. 2, Studies of
the Stars; and readings in Astronomy, English, Russian, Scandinavian,
and Religious History and Literature, and Bible History and Literature.
Bishop Warren’s Recreations in Astronomy, and Chautauqua Text-Book
No. 2, Studies of the Stars, are in book form; the remainder of the
required reading for the month is published in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for
February. The following division is made according to weeks:
FIRST WEEK—1. Warren’s Recreations in Astronomy, chapters I and
II—Creative Processes, Creative Progress—to page 40.
2. Chautauqua Text-Book No. 2, Studies of the Stars—the Morning Star,
pages 3 and 4; Gravitation, from page 11 to page 15, both inclusive.
3. History of Russia, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.
4. Readings in Religious and Bible History and Literature; Sunday
Readings, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, selections for February 4.
SECOND WEEK—1. Warren’s Recreations in Astronomy, chapters III and
IV—Astronomical Instruments, Celestial Measurements—from page 41 to
page 74, inclusive.
2. Chautauqua Text-Book No. 2, Studies of the Stars—Light—pages 8, 9,
and 10.
3. History and Literature of Scandinavia, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.
4. Readings in Religious and Bible History and Literature; Sunday
Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, selections for February 11.
THIRD WEEK—1. Warren’s Recreations in Astronomy, chapter V—The Sun—from
page 75 to page 96, inclusive.
2. Chautauqua Text-Book No. 2, Studies of the Stars—The Sun—pages 5, 6,
and 7.
3. Pictures from English History, in THE CHAUTAUQUAN.
4. Readings in Religious and Bible History and Literature; Sunday
Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, selections for February 18.
FOURTH WEEK—1. Warren’s Recreations in Astronomy, chapters VI and
VII—The Planets as Seen from Space; Shooting Stars, Meteors, and
Comets—from page 97 to page 134, inclusive.
2. Chautauqua Text-Book No. 2, Studies of the Stars—Comets, Meteoric
Systems—from page 37 to page 41, inclusive.
3. Readings in Religious and Bible History and Literature; Sunday
Readings in THE CHAUTAUQUAN, selections for February 25.
ANSWERS
TO QUESTIONS FOR FURTHER STUDY IN THE DECEMBER NUMBER OF “THE
CHAUTAUQUAN.”
By ALBERT M. MARTIN, GENERAL SECRETARY C. L. S. C.
1. The County of Westchester, in the State of New York, which is about
half the size of Attica, contains about five hundred square miles.
2. The Romans gave the name “Greeks” to the Hellenes probably for the
reason that they gained their first knowledge of the country from a
tribe in the northwest of Greece called Græci, and they accordingly
gave the name of that tribe to the whole country, calling it Græcia.
3. The following are two examples of Spartan laconisms: “Either this,
or on this.” [Either bring this, or be brought on this. Attributed to
Gorgo on presenting a shield to her son.] “Let Xerxes come and take
them.” The reply of Leonidas when summoned by Xerxes to surrender his
arms.
4. Among the literary tidings from modern Greece that seem to
foretoken close at hand a signal renaissance of Greek literature, are
the following: With the establishment of the kingdom in the present
century, education is spread over every corner of free Greece. In
education the Greek child does not learn the grammar of the modern
language, but of the ancient. Perhaps no nation now produces so much
literature in proportion to its numbers. The Greeks seem restless in
their desire to give expression to their thoughts. Many rich Greeks
have published books at their own expense. Very frequently scholars
produce their best works for periodicals, or even newspapers. Almost
every literary man of eminence makes efforts in every literary
direction. An American classical school has recently been opened in
Athens by Prof. Goodwin, of Cambridge, Mass., on the site of an old
school of philosophy. The University of Athens is assuming special
prominence as a literary institution.
5. Homer was Blind Melesigenes. He was so called because he was
supposed to have been born on the borders of the river Meles.
6. The Delphic Oracle pronounced Socrates “the wisest of mankind.”
7. The monk Planudes is apparently relieved of the imputation
concerning the authorship of the biography of Æsop ascribed to him,
by the discovery at Florence of a manuscript of this life that was in
existence a century before Planudes’s time.
8. Some of the reasons for supposing that this biography is a
falsifying one are as follows: His being represented as a monster of
ugliness and deformity, was doubtless intended to heighten his wit by
contrast. In Plutarch’s _Convivium_ Æsop is a guest, and there are many
jests on his original servile condition, but none on his appearance,
and a delicacy on such points does not usually restrain ancient
writers. The Athenians erected a noble statue in honor of Æsop, which
they doubtless would not have done had he been deformed. Pliny states
that Æsop was the _Contubernalis_ of Rhodopis, his fellow slave, whose
extraordinary beauty passed into a proverb.
9. The hecatomb was strictly the sacrifice of a hundred oxen. All
hecatombs were sacred. This sacrifice is said to have been particularly
observed by the Lacedæmonians when they possessed a hundred cities. The
sacrifices were subsequently reduced in number, and goats and lambs
substituted for oxen.
10. The ceremony of taking a prisoner by the girdle in token that he
is to suffer death was, ancient writers state, a custom among the
Persians. After the trial was over, instead of formally pronouncing
sentence upon the accused, all the members of the tribunal arose from
their seats and, turning their heads away from the prisoner, took
hold of his girdle, the highest in command taking hold first. Even
the relatives, if any were in the tribunal, went through the same
ceremony. Those in rank below the accused continued to bow before him,
notwithstanding his condemnation.
11. The scythed chariots of the Persians had two wheels with knives
fastened to each axle, extending obliquely outward. They were ordinary
wooden chariots, with a platform large enough for two to stand on,
resting on the axles without springs. Each chariot was drawn by four
horses abreast. Later, long spikes were placed in the ends of the
poles, and the back parts of the chariot were armed with several rows
of sharp knives. The horses were driven by a charioteer, whose duty it
was to manage his steeds, and with a shield ward off the missiles of
the enemy, while his chief stood behind and with his sword endeavored
to hew down those who escaped the scythes.
12. The quotation, “When Greek joined Greek, then was the tug of war,”
is from the play of Alexander the Great, written by Nathaniel Lee, an
English dramatic writer of the latter part of the seventeenth century.
13. The Persian slingers were a part of the light-armed soldiers.
Their armor consisted of a shield, a sling, and stones, or other
missiles. The stone or missile was placed upon a leather disk, held by
two strings, and then rapidly whirled, and just at the right time one
string was dropped and the missile projected with great force through
the air. Some of the missiles thus thrown weighed no less than an Attic
pound, and Seneca reports that the motion was so vehement that the
leaden bullets were frequently melted. These slingers were enabled
to use either hand, and it is stated that they obliged their sons to
strike their food from a pole before eating it.
14. The now familiar expression, “War even to the knife,” was the
reply of the Spanish patriot Palafox, the governor of Saragoza, to
the summons of the French to surrender, at the siege of that city in
1808. Lord Byron uses the same expression in the first canto of Childe
Harold’s Pilgrimage.
15. The singular effect upon the men of the eating of honeycombs, as
described by Xenophon, was occasioned by the peculiar properties given
to the honey, owing to its being extracted by the bees from narcotic
plants. The honey of Trebizond, at the present day, when eaten, causes
headache and vomiting, and possesses poisonous qualities, supposed to
be derived from the rhododendron, _azalea pontica_.
* * * * *
Correct replies to all the questions for further study in the December
number of THE CHAUTAUQUAN have been received from the Niles, Mich.,
circle, through the secretary, Mrs. J. S. Tuttle; Mrs. S. D. Lloyd,
president, Mrs. Marion McKinney, secretary, Mrs. J. P. Henry and
Mrs. F. R. Snyder, of the Arcola, Ill., circle; Rev. R. H. and Mrs.
M. A. Howard, Saxonville, Mass.; Miss Maggie V. Wilcox, 605 North
Thirty-fifth street, West Philadelphia, Pa.; Mrs. Nellie M. Rumsey,
president of the Albert Lea, Minn., local circle; Miss Mary D.
Eshleman, 821 Chestnut street, Philadelphia, Pa., and A. U. Lombard,
Columbus, O.
C. L. S. C. ROUND-TABLE.[J]
“HOW TO CONDUCT LOCAL CIRCLES.”
DR. VINCENT: First of all, good friends, don’t let the idea prevail
anywhere that the local circle is indispensable to the work of the
C. L. S. C. There are individual readers who are unable to attend a
local circle, who do all the work that is required by the C. L. S. C.
successfully. When the idea obtains, as it often does, that to be a
good C. L. S. C. member one must attend the local circle, people who
would otherwise read to profit, and read through the entire course,
become discouraged and give it up. Some of our very best students never
saw a local circle, or knew anything about it. They are their own local
circle.
Where people come together voluntarily for mutual improvement, the
local circle is of very great advantage, and the more local circles
we can have the better, and the more you attend the local circle the
better for you. Any effort you put forth to establish a local circle is
worthy of praise.
Again, small local circles are better than large ones. Where there are
six persons who “take to” each other, who work easily together, they
will do better work than a large circle. Where there are fifty members
in one place it is better to have four or six circles than to have one,
with a monthly general meeting.
In the local circle, to repeat what has been said before on this
platform, avoid all long lectures and all long essays. If you want
a popular lecture, get a popular lecturer. If you want a scholarly
lecture, secure a scholarly lecturer, and give all the benefit of it to
those who desire it; but do not attempt to burden the ordinary local
circle meetings with elaborate lectures.
A local circle should encourage conversation, which is the action
of many minds in expression. To have one person say it all will not
benefit all as much as to have all say something. Have five-minute
essays where you must have essays: conversation rather than essays
where you can have conversation. This may be embarrassing to begin
with, but the embarrassment is easily overcome as you awaken an
interest in the subject. Let a question be thrown out; ask who can
answer it. “Well,” says one, “I think I can answer it.” What a
benediction to a local circle is some disputed question in the hands of
members who “do not care a penny what anybody thinks,” but who “speak
right out,” good grammar or bad grammar. Perfectly at home themselves,
they try to make everybody else at home.
When a local circle simply becomes a conversation on the appointed
topic, you have the very perfection of a meeting. A Methodist
class-meeting that becomes a simple, informal, spontaneous conversation
on a religious subject, without any “tone” put on at all, is a
profitable class-meeting.
So it is profitable to have study in a class where the teacher becomes
a member of the class, and guides without reins in sight, drawing
out the convictions and movements of every mind and of every tongue
for half an hour, illustrating something from every mind, from every
tongue, until they say: “We didn’t have a recitation to-day, we had a
little conversation,” and everybody spoke and thought, and out came
the thought, and speech which a formal teacher would have brought
about through recitation and blackboard outlines, and all that. The
simple conversation, in the interest of the result, in which everybody
participates, is the highest style of teaching; and to have that, you
want one ruling mind; and blessed are you if you have some one to
undertake and direct that conversation.
Where the local circle is large, you will not have much general
conversation, and a few will do the work which, although it is not
wholly unprofitable, is not for the best interests of all.
WRITTEN QUESTION: How shall we compute the time spent in reading and
study, to be sure we have given as much time as we agreed to give?
DR. VINCENT: You read all the required reading, and you may put it
down, without looking at your watch, that you have taken all the time
required. [Laughter.]
QUESTION: How many seals to be attached to the diploma can the class of
1882 secure in a year?
DR. VINCENT: You can get one white crystal seal. You may get just as
many other seals as you can win. If you are a person of ample leisure
you may read along and fill up the memoranda. I think you should get
a seal in general history in three or four months. If you succeed in
getting one seal in a year, you will do very well. Those of you who
have leisure, and work as rapidly as you care to work, will secure your
seals in due time.
QUESTION: Is there any railway station at Chautauqua? The boards point
to the “depot.” Is this in accordance with the Chautauqua idea?
DR. VINCENT: Every time I look at the sign pointing to the “depot,” how
sorry I am that it was not made “railway station.” We have a “railway
station” at Chautauqua.
QUESTION: Please give the names for the books for the white crystal
seal for graduates; also for the white seal for the third and fourth
years?
DR. VINCENT: I intend to give in THE CHAUTAUQUAN every month one or two
columns of direct counsel to the Circle; and the first thing I do will
be to give the required books for the White Seal Course of the class of
1882 for the last two years.
A VOICE: We have a list of the books on the memoranda we have kept, and
we have the names of the books and the questions, if we have read them.
DR. VINCENT: Very good. You have the list of the books required for the
white seal for the last two years; but to make it quite sure, I will
make mention of it.
A VOICE: I understood that we were to go right on and take the four
years.
DR. VINCENT: The white seal of the past two years will cost you
nothing, and the seals will cost you nothing. You may add the white
crystal seal also. If you read up that which is required for the past
two years you may add three seals this year.
A VOICE: I have on my diploma two white seals, and I have not read
anything required in the White Seal Course.
DR. VINCENT: You read the required reading of the first and second
years, when we had no white seal distinction, and for that you get the
two white seals. If you read the additional books for the last two
years, you may get two white seals.
QUESTION: How many white seals can a person have?
DR. VINCENT: You can have seven crystal seals if you wish. Nearly all
of you have two white seals now. You can all of you have seven white
crystal seals if you will wait seven years. Or you may study that part
assigned for the past four years and put on the white seals, and your
crystal seal, if you should happen to win one, can go on the pyramid
somewhere.
A VOICE: You can read but one white crystal seal during the year?
DR. VINCENT: Yes, sir, but one during the year—one white crystal seal.
A VOICE: What other seal would you advise?
DR. VINCENT: The seal in the department to which you “take” the most. I
have no choice in that matter at all. We have the memoranda for a part
of the departments ready now, and will soon have them ready for all.
You must make your own selection.
A VOICE: Can we have the memoranda when we commence reading?
DR. VINCENT: You can have them at the beginning. Four are ready now. If
you take these courses, we will try to get the memoranda ready as soon
as possible. I think our committee on that is at work.
QUESTION: Must we ask special permission to substitute another edition
of Shakspere in place of Rolfe’s edition?
DR. VINCENT: No, any edition will be accepted.
QUESTION: Must we send our diplomas to the office of the secretary for
new seals?
DR. VINCENT: When you send the memoranda, the secretary will send you
the seal; it will be duly stamped and forwarded by mail.
I have a communication from Miss Young. I know that she is doing a
good work in her present home at Hot Springs, Arkansas. She writes
in reference to the founding of a public library at Hot Springs. She
desires donations of books for it. She says:
“The town is in part owned by the government. We seek assistance
from good people everywhere, for the work is in no sense a local
one. Probably no town exists in the country having greater need in
this direction. Men visit the place by thousands from all over the
country, and find nothing to uplift; but saloons and gambling-houses
by the score. On July 1st Congress passed a special act allowing us
to purchase a lot on the government reservation for a mere nominal
sum. So now we have one hundred feet on the avenue, for which we paid
one hundred dollars. Upon this we propose to put a public hall worth
ten thousand dollars. We are working with our plan. Any help from
Chautauquans, however small, will be received. Books can be sent by
mail to my address. One book from one might save some young man from an
hour of temptation. May I not plead for a little help to give light and
life even to Arkansas?”
This is a matter to be thought upon, and I hope that you will think,
and that your thinking will result in action. Miss Young and her
friends will be very grateful.
A PAPER: “Knowing the desire of so many of the C. L. S. C. graduates
to place at Chautauqua some memorial of the first Commencement, a
member of the Class of 1882 would suggest that the purchase of a bell,
to add to the one already possessed by the association, would be a
suitable and useful gift. Future classes might add to the number until
the peal is completed. It would be easy through THE CHAUTAUQUAN to
advertise the matter, and to whom subscriptions might be sent.”
DR. VINCENT: It is a good idea.
QUESTION: Will a person who has never attempted to read the course, but
has read some of the books in it, get credit for what he has read in
it, if he takes it up?
DR. VINCENT: Certainly. You will get credit for everything you have
read in our line of study.
A VOICE: I do not hear anything about a meeting of the Class of ’83.
DR. VINCENT: A member of the Class of 1883 is anxious to know what
has become of the class. Are there no members of the Class of ’83
present? Raise your hands. Please stand up, and let us see who you are.
Be seated. That was a very good showing for ’83. The most of ’83 are
waiting for their time next year. ’82 did not make much of a showing
last year, but they did very well this year.
I want to call your attention to a photograph. Mr. Walker did not ask
me to do this. I do it because I am so delighted with the photograph
which has been taken of the gate, the gate closed, the beautiful
pathway, and the view from the Hall down the pathway to the gate,
the gate open, and our guard, Mr. Allen, by the side of it, keys in
hand. There are two views of the Superintendent of Instruction and the
Counselors, which you do not want. [Laughter.] These views were taken
some morning this week, and here they are already. Mr. Walker did not
ask me to present them to you, or I should not have done it.
The questions relating to the local circles have all been answered. I
do not think that we have wasted time. We have spent a little more time
on the points about the books than I could have wished.
Has the committee of the “Society of the Hall in the Grove” had a
meeting?
REV. A. H. GILLET: They have.
DR. VINCENT: Is the committee full?
REV. A. H. GILLET: The list of twenty-five is now complete. That
committee will meet this evening. Those who are present will have power
to transact business.
A VOICE: Were the special committees appointed by the committee of
twenty-five to be appointed this year?
DR. VINCENT: Certainly.
A VOICE: And out of the twenty-five?
DR. VINCENT: Not necessarily. The “Guard of the Gate” and the “Guard of
the Grove” must be appointed.
Dear friends, it is not quite six o’clock, and I want a few words with
you. The sunlight among these leaves and branches, the great hall, your
faces, the pleasant fellowship, the memories that come, and the hopes
that spring up, make this a delightful hour to me. I made a suggestion
the other day to this effect, that the members of this circle, however
widely they differ in religious opinions, might each give the heart
an up-look toward the Father of all, and offer a prayer for all the
members of the Circle.
We have some people among us who are skeptical. They doubt a great
deal, that many of you believe. They are not the less interesting and
dear to me as a believer in humanity and in God, because they doubt,
for all doubt is not guilty doubt. I would rather have only one ounce
of faith, and try to live up to it, than a whole ton of accurate
opinion which I sinned against in my everyday life. For out of the
ounce of truth, though there be much error with it, much more will come
of life and strength and divine likeness than can possibly come from
the largest measure of truth which one holds in unrighteousness.
Therefore I take a peculiar interest in those members of our circle who
are not “orthodox” Christians. The majority of our Circle are believers
in what is called “orthodoxy.” We have some souls who hesitate when
they come to definitions about doctrines; and some of the most fervent
prayers that go up to the Father, who is acquainted with them and
knows the measure of their faith, are the prayers that come out of
hearts that want to believe, but owing to circumstances over which they
have no control, are notable to believe everything that other people
believe, and they simply wait and ask for light.
There is a great deal of sorrow in our Circle. There are many hearts
that ache. The loneliness of sorrow makes it harder to bear. The
thought that those who belong to this Circle sympathizingly turn to God
in prayer may make it easier to bear such burdens. There are a great
many people who feel a weight of responsibility. They are conscientious
up to the measure of their faith, and they are eager to be right. A
prayer of all to God that this light might come to them would be a
blessing to them.
I will tell you a secret: The best thing in the world for a soul that
needs to be lifted up to God, is to pray for the uplifting of some
other soul. It is when we become most anxious about others and try to
hold them up, that the power comes down to us. Then underneath us are
the everlasting arms. We are lifted up. There is great power in desire
toward God for the good of others.
I have tried to avoid the obtrusion of too much religious counsel on
the members of our Circle, but it would be a pleasant thing if we would
agree on every Sabbath afternoon, wherever we are, at the same time,
to lift prayer to God for his blessing on the members of our Circle.
Some are very lowly; it might lift them up. Some feel that they stand
very high; it might in God’s way bring them down where he could exalt
them. The spirit of prayer diffused through the Circle would be a
blessing, not only to us as individual members of it, but it would
make the Circle a center of religious power wherever its individual
members abide. I offer this suggestion to you and I ask that on Sabbath
afternoons, at such times as the thought comes to you, you ask God’s
blessing on all the other members of the Circle, rich and poor, high
and low, at home and abroad, young and old, in health or sickness,
in prosperity or in adversity. The wide thought will broaden you and
lift you up, for a broad thought that has heart in it is a broadening
thought. Let us seek such culture, culture of the heart and brain
together, as we lift both heart and brain to God in the interest of
others.
A VOICE: Is it to-morrow evening that we hold our closing meeting for
this session?
A VOICE: There is no meeting of the Circle appointed for five o’clock.
DR. VINCENT: The closing exercises of the School of Languages takes
place in the Temple, and the meeting of the Circle is omitted. The
final meeting of the Round-Table will take place on Friday at five
o’clock. How many can be present on Friday? I am very happy that so
many can be here. How many can be here Sunday? Raise your hands. Quite
a large number. Perhaps we shall be able to hold a Sunday afternoon
session for prayer and song.
To those of you who are going, and can be with us no longer, we say
an affectionate “Good-bye.” May God’s blessing be on you! And may you
be useful in engaging a great many people in this work. And, whether
you come back to us next year or not, may your lives be made all the
larger, fairer and stronger, because of the delightful services we have
been permitted to enjoy in this place.
[After singing, the benediction was pronounced by Dr. Vincent.]
FOOTNOTE:
[J] Held in the Hall of Philosophy, at Chautauqua, N. Y., August 16,
1882.
A TRANSLATION
OF ALL THE GREEK PASSAGES FOUND IN VOLUME I OF TIMAYENIS’S HISTORY OF
GREECE.
By T. T. TIMAYENIS.
Page 158.—“The Athenians fighting in Marathon in behalf of the Greeks,
laid low the power of the gold-apparelled Medes.”
Page 250.—“The Athenians gave this reward to the leaders in return for
good service and noble achievements.”
Page 252.—“Ever since the deep cut asunder Europe from Asia, and
impetuous Mars sought out the cities of men, no mortal heroes ever
nobler achievements on land and sea combined did perform. For having
destroyed many [of the enemy] in the land of the Medes, captured on sea
a hundred vessels of the Phœnicians full of men, while Asia heavily
groaned, being severely wounded by the might of war.”
Page 268.—Translation given in the text.
Page 281.—Translation given in the text.
Page 284.—Translation given in the text.
Page 287.—Translation given in the text.
Page 288.—Translation given in the text.
Page 294.—“Now, Perikles knowing that the people during war admire the
best men by reason of the distressing needs existing, but that during
peace basely plot against them, on account of the tranquillity and
envy, he deemed it best to his interests to involve the city into a
great war, so that the city, having need of Perikles’s valor as well
as of his generalship, he (Perikles) might not incur plots directed
against him.” (Other Greek passages on page 294 are translated in the
text.)
Page 295.—Translation given in the text.
Page 308.—“For this was indeed the greatest commotion that ever
occurred among the Greeks.”
Page 309.—Translation given in the text.
Page 322.—Translation given in the text.
Page 345.—Translation given in the text.
Page 346.—Translation given in the text.
Page 369.—Translation given in the text.
Page 376.—Translation given in the text.
Page 407.—Translation given in the text.
Page 408.—“He was the craftiest of men.”
Page 417.—Translation given in the text.
Page 422.—Translation given in the text.
Page 425.—Translation given in the text.
Page 428.—Translation given in the text.
Page 435.—Translation given in the text.
Page 437.—Translation given in the text.
DANIEL WEBSTER.
_To the readers of_ THE CHAUTAUQUAN:
DEAR FRIENDS:—By the generosity of our editor I am permitted to use a
little space for the purpose of making here a quasi-personal statement
as to a matter in which I am myself greatly interested, and in which I
should greatly like to interest you.
From early boyhood I have been a student of the life, character,
and works of Daniel Webster. I never saw the great man’s face; I
never heard his voice; he never knew even of my being in the world.
My interest in Webster is entirely removed from the influence of
considerations merely personal of whatever sort; but I have learned to
reverence, nay, to love the man. I owe his memory a great debt, for he
has been of inestimable service to me individually, apart from the
service that, in his public capacity, he rendered to all Americans in
common. I have received as much inspiration to moral excellence from
Webster as from any uninspired man. I catch a breath of elevating
influence from his works as often as I open to read them.
During many years this sense of indebtedness on my part to Webster
was much modified by an impression received, I hardly know whence,
that there were serious deductions to be made from his moral worth
on account of certain vicious habits into which, in his later years,
he lapsed. This impression so much abated my reverence for Webster’s
character that, as long as I retained it, I took but moderate pleasure
in contemplating his intellectual greatness. Circumstances led me,
a number of years ago, to enter somewhat deeply into a study of the
facts of Webster’s life, and, to my equal delight and surprise, I
found that the common fame which I had trusted, bore flagrant false
witness against Webster. For this there was a reason, and that reason,
after having some time been obliged to content myself with merely
conjecturing it, I was able to discern and verify in a manner highly
satisfactory and conclusive. The conviction that Webster was thus
suffering in general esteem, undeservedly as to himself, and with great
injury as to his countrymen, became at length to me a powerful motive
to do what I could to vindicate and restore him to the admiration and
veneration of mankind. I have read or examined everything I could
hear of, accessible in print, pertaining to this great man. I have
corresponded widely; I have taken journeys, and secured personal
interviews; in short, I have spared no pains to arrive at the truth
concerning the private character and the personal motives of Webster.
The resultant estimate of his genius, character, and achievements,
I have embodied in a poem which THE CHAUTAUQUAN has advertised as
published in a volume with notes, from the press of Charles Scribner’s
Sons.
I should like to have my friends, the readers of THE CHAUTAUQUAN, as
far as possible, see this book. I shall hardly dare follow the example
of contemporary German authors, or even that of the great Sir Walter
Scott, and here review my own production. But I may, perhaps, without
impropriety, say that the poem is the fruit of long and deep study of
the subject, and much loving labor in construction and composition. It
is not a piece of tinkling rhyme; but to any one who knows of Webster,
even only what the notes themselves will teach, the ruggedness, the
severity, the simplicity of the ode, will perhaps sufficiently justify
themselves, as fit and required by the theme. There must too be passion
in the song, for there certainly was passion, the passion of conviction
and of indignant zeal, in the singer. The illustrative notes, at least,
must interest any reader.
Now, dear friends, readers of THE CHAUTAUQUAN, I want you all with
me to do what you can to restore a great example to the young men of
our country. It is an immeasurable mischief to our aspiring young men
in the law, in politics, in journalism, in literature, to think, as
they have been misled to think, that they have Webster for example
in joining to brilliant gifts of intellect, dissoluteness of moral
character. Such a false impression on the part of our young men works a
harm to them that it is impossible to calculate. It _is_ an impression
with them, and it is a _false_ impression. We shall be doing our
generation a true service to take away Webster from among the splendid
lures that draw our young men into looseness of life. Webster was not
immaculate, but he was on the whole a great and shining beacon to
virtue and religion. Let us cleanse away the mists of foul aspersion
that confuse his beneficent light.
Your friend and fellow-lover of the truth,
WILLIAM C. WILKINSON.
EDITOR’S OUTLOOK.
The C. L. S. C. as an Educational Force.
This is an age of educational activity. Universities, colleges and
seminaries are being multiplied. The public school system is being
perfected and in some form is in effective operation in all parts
of the Union. Lectures on science, literature and religion impart
instruction to the masses, so that this generation is highly favored
with facilities for acquiring knowledge. The result of these advantages
is already seen in the increased intellectual quickening of the times,
in the wide diffusion of information among all classes, and in the
spirit of intelligence which characterizes the average citizen.
Among these educational forces the C. L. S. C. has won its place. It
is of recent origin, but its growth has been rapid and vigorous, and
its power is being felt everywhere. Institutions of learning exert a
direct educational influence mainly upon those who are, or have been,
enrolled as actual students in their various departments. This number
must always be comparatively small, inasmuch as but few persons can
command the time and means necessary to enable them to pursue the
courses of study laid down in a college curriculum. And if any desire
to do this, they must be present in college halls and at educational
centers. Hence the educational force of schools of learning is for the
most part confined to the locality where they exist, and even there are
concentrated mainly upon those enrolled as students.
But the influence of the C. L. S. C. is felt in almost every hamlet in
the land. Every circle, however small, is an educational center, which
exerts an educational influence, not on its members alone, but on the
community as well, through the books and periodicals used, lectures
given, and the higher culture attained by the individual members.
The attendance at each of the higher educational institutions in this
country will not average more than three hundred students per annum,
if it does that. But the C. L. S. C. has on its rolls more than forty
thousand names, so that, compared as to its direct influence on the
student classes, it is equal in influence to not less than one hundred
and twenty educational institutions. From this standpoint, it must be
recognized as one of the greatest educational forces of the age.
It has, however, been urged against the C. L. S. C. that its course of
study is but meagre when compared with college curriculums, and for
this reason its educational tendencies are of but little worth, or even
deleterious. We are not of those who believe that a “little learning
is a dangerous thing,” but rather think that a “little learning” is
far better than absolute ignorance, and that it will always exert a
benign influence on its possessor. Whatever affords opportunities for
the intellectual awakening and improvement of the people, is worthy of
being classed among the educational forces of the age. Certain it is,
that many humble artisans, toiling mothers, and overworked seamstresses
have found in the C. L. S. C. a force that has elevated them above the
drudgery of their daily toil, and has inspired their mental faculties
for a new and worthy work, while it has also been the means of bringing
increased cultivation and refinement into many homes.
We urge as another reason for regarding the C. L. S. C. as an
educational force, that it begets habits of study independent of direct
oversight and supervision. Many of the students in our institutions
of learning are kept at their tasks with regularity, only by the
pressure brought to bear on them by the presence of professors and
tutors, and by class rivalries, and whenever they are removed from
their college surroundings, and from these constraining forces, they
at once relinquish their pursuit of knowledge, and cease to make any
further efforts after intellectual development. Such is not the case
with the C. L. S. C. Its students are carried forward in their course,
not by an impulse from without, but from within, which is continually
active, and which is ever operating on their mental energies to secure
a more thorough training. But the C. L. S. C. is by no means to be
looked upon as a rival to the regular institutions of learning. Far
otherwise! It has already become a valuable helper to the schools, and
every circle may become a recruiting station from which the colleges
and universities may draw many of their best and brightest students.
Without doubt many of the young people who enter upon the course of
study prescribed for the C. L. S. C. will have such an intense thirst
for knowledge created in their souls that they will be impelled to
pursue more extended courses of study, and will turn to the colleges
and universities to obtain all the advantages they have to offer.
The Passion Play.
Ex-Mayor Grace, of New York, deserves much credit and honor for his
refusal to grant Mr. Salmi Morse a license to produce his Passion Play.
With all the world’s past and present progress, we are not without here
and there signs of degeneracy. The Passion Play, which began in motives
of religious devotion with the ignorant villagers of Ober Ammergau
two hundred and fifty years ago, is now sought to be produced in the
metropolis of the foremost Christian nation, for the degraded motive of
money-making. Surely some things progress downwards. The superstitious
population of Ober Ammergau made a vow that if they were allowed to
escape the then prevalent plague they would every ten years perform a
play representing the passion and death of the Savior. Accordingly,
during twelve consecutive Sundays of the summer season, continuing
from 8 a. m. to 4 p. m., with three hundred and fifty actors and an
orchestra and chorus of eighty members, the play has been produced.
It has attracted the attention of the Christian world because it is
the only one of the miracle plays once so common which continues to
be performed. But this and all the miracle plays enacted by monks and
friars in the middle ages differ radically from the proposed enterprise
of Mr. Morse. The passion and events of the life of our Lord were
represented by them to make them real to ignorant and illiterate
people, but Mr. Morse proposes to cater to the low and morbid class,
in order to make money. There is no reason to believe that the effect
of such representations, even when performed with a view to religious
instruction and impression, has ever been of a salutary character.
The only effect to-day is to shock and outrage the refinement,
intelligence, and reverence of the average class of American society.
The human heart has human loves and affections too sacred to be
placarded before the public eye, or even to be given utterance by human
lips. It has feelings and sentiments associated with the divine tragedy
of Calvary which make it revolt at the scene of coarse and vulgar
persons attempting to re-enact the tragedy which revealed the infinite
depths of heaven’s love for the race.
Gambetta.
Another death has caused a profound, world-wide sensation. The life of
Leon Gambetta, the great French orator and statesman, went out in the
last moments of the old year. At five minutes before twelve o’clock on
New Year’s eve he breathed his last. His death, like that of our late
lamented President, was due to pyæmia. In November last he received
a gun-shot wound, in regard to which there are conflicting stories.
Though the case is not clear, it is very generally understood that the
disease had its origin in this wound. His suffering in his last days
was intense, and drew from his lips, shortly before his death, the
exclamation which will be long remembered: “I am lost—it is useless to
dissimulate,—but I have suffered so much it will be a deliverance.”
Gambetta was born April 2, 1838, in Cahors, in Southern France, and
was therefore only in his forty-fifth year when he died. His father,
Joseph Gambetta, was an Italian, and in business a grocer. The early
educational advantages of the future statesman were good, and were
well improved. When very young he was distinguished in school for his
powers of oratory and his retentive memory. He graduated from a lyceum,
receiving the degree of Bachelor of Arts at the age of eighteen, and
was the winner of the first prize for French dissertation, in the
competition for which five lyceums were represented. His studies were
first directed with a view to his entering the priesthood; later he had
medicine in mind as a profession; but finally he entered upon the study
of law, and was admitted to practice in Paris in 1859. His first law
case, in which he was an assistant in the defense of a man tried for
conspiracy against the Emperor, gave him distinction, and he became one
to whom persons in difficulty on account of Republican sentiments and
hostility to imperialism looked for powerful legal aid. In 1868 certain
French journals which had incurred the displeasure of the government,
were persecuted, and Gambetta was engaged to defend the _Réveil_. His
plea in this trial sent a thrill throughout France. A master-piece of
oratory, it held spell-bound those who were gathered in that Paris
court room. He spoke bold, fiery words against the empire and in favor
of popular government. In spite of all precautions taken, the address
was published and circulated everywhere. Other occasions were improved
in a similar manner. His vehement, treasonable utterances produced
a powerful effect. He became a popular idol, and leader of French
Republicans.
He was elected to the Legislature of France in 1869, and entered it
the foremost of the sworn foes of the empire. Soon came the war with
Prussia, and the collapse of the government of Napoleon III. Gambetta
became a prominent member of the Government of National Defence, and
served for a time as both Minister of War and Minister of the Interior.
In this time of confusion and transition, when France was at war with
a powerful nation, and had no established government, he performed
herculean labors for his country. Escaping from beleagured Paris in a
balloon, he joined himself to the army and directed its operations.
His was the master-mind, more than any other, which ruled France. He
appointed generals, raised re-enforcements for the army, and negotiated
loans. Though defeat followed defeat, he urged that the war should be
pushed on, and was bitterly opposed to the conclusion of a peace with
Prussia. When, in 1871, the National Assembly convened at Bordeaux,
voted to accept the enemy’s terms and make peace, Gambetta, in wrath,
withdrew from the hall, followed by certain of his colleagues. The
new elections of the same year sent him back to the Assembly, where
he continued the peerless orator, and firm and brave champion of
Republicanism. When President MacMahon, in 1877, supplanted the old
Republican ministry with one of another character, Gambetta led the
attack upon him, which resulted in his retirement. In the period which
followed, until 1881, this statesman’s star was in the ascendant. His
influence was greater than ever before. In the Assembly he had a strong
Republican majority at his back. He was “the power behind the throne.”
Deferred to by those at the head of the executive department of the
nation, he governed while others did so in name. In the Autumn of 1881
he became Premier, but the defeat of one of his measures compelled his
retirement in a few weeks.
Leon Gambetta was easily the most brilliant man of the Third Republic.
He is the one man of genius we discover in recent French political
life. As an orator he has had few equals. He possessed a magnificent
voice, a commanding presence, a remarkable command of rich language, a
rapid, fiery utterance, and his eloquence at times was overwhelming. He
is spoken of as an editor, but his work in this character was probably
small. His paper, _La République Française_, was perhaps chiefly
edited by other hands, but became a very influential journal. He was
a man of great courage, and that audacity which men admire. He loved
his country, and rendered her services for which she should be ever
grateful. He has been accused of aiming at a dictatorship for himself.
There seems little ground for the charge, and for doubting that he was,
his life through, true to Republican principles. He was a good hater,
and never ceased to long for an opportunity for France to revenge
herself upon Germany. His private life it is best to pass over with
few words. It is not one, like that of our own great statesman whose
death and his own were so strangely alike, to admire and to copy. He
was destitute of moral and religious principle. We are left to believe
that he passed out of life without faith in God or a future state, and
another illustration he furnishes that, “With the talents of an angel
man may be a fool.”
The Decennial Assembly.
The first note of preparation for the Assembly of 1883 has been
sounded. Some of the proprietors of the Gibson House, at Cincinnati,
Ohio, being at Chautauqua during the last Assembly, invited the
trustees to hold this year’s annual session in their ample and
elegantly furnished parlors. The invitation was gratefully accepted,
and on January 10, the Chautauqua Board of Trustees met for
deliberation. President Lewis Miller was in the chair, and presided
with his usual ease and dignity. Nearly all the members were present,
full of confidence, and ready to do and to dare. One of its members,
Rev. E. J. L. Baker, answered not to roll-call, as he had only a few
days previous responded to the summons of death. Appropriate action
was taken by the Board in the case, recognizing the high character of
the deceased, and the important part he had taken in the affairs of
Chautauqua.
C. C. Studebaker, Esq., of South Bend, Indiana, a new and great admirer
of the Chautauqua Assembly, was chosen to fill his place.
It appeared from the report of the Treasurer that the business part of
the last Assembly, the erection of the hotel not included, amounted to
nearly ninety-five thousand dollars. The department of instruction cost
nearly sixteen thousand dollars. About two thousand dollars had been
expended on music, the cost of the great organ not included.
In August, 1883, will be held the Decennial Assembly, and an
attempt will be made to place it a little in advance of any of its
predecessors. Joseph Cook will be present to give the public, in three
lectures, the concentrated results of two years of travel, observation,
and study in oriental lands. Other great lights, some old and some
new, will appear upon the platform. Different methods of collegiate
education will be thoroughly discussed by the best educators in the
land. Among them will be President Cummins, LL. D., of the Northwestern
University, at Evanston, Illinois. As yet the program is but partially
arranged, nor will it be fixed and given to the public in all its
details till sometime in June.
Ten years ago Chautauqua was compared to the groves of Greece in which
Plato and Aristotle taught their disciples philosophy. Instinctively
the people have watched the growth of the place, expecting that in due
time it would develop into university proportions. Such hope, existing
then, seems a dream, but coming events often cast their shadows
before. Chautauqua can not stand still; its vital nature makes growth a
necessity; but it can not advance much further and not embrace in its
curriculum a university education. It can do what can be done in no
other place, namely, combine a thorough and broad education with the
great variety of exercises which characterize the Assembly gatherings.
July of this year will be characterized by the opening of a children’s
school, under the instruction of the most accomplished teachers.
Families have hesitated to come early to Chautauqua because their
children were in school, and they did not like to disturb their
studies. As this difficulty is to be obviated, the way will be open for
our Southern friends and all others to come early in the season.
Dr. Vincent was present at the meeting of the Trustees, and favored
them with his wise counsel. His plans for the coming season are, as
usual, original and broad. He has several pleasant surprises in store
for the Chautauqua people.
The Board was visited by Messrs. Warren and Morrow, from East
Tennessee, as the representatives of the Mount Eagle Sunday-school
Assembly. They were welcomed by a neat speech from Dr. Vincent and Mr.
Miller, to which they handsomely responded, explaining their work in
the South. This is but one of the many echoes of Chautauqua.
EDITOR’S NOTE-BOOK.
“Everything which happens has its bent given by the events that
have gone before, and is brought into relation with those that come
after.”—_Forster._
* * * * *
The C. L. S. C. Class of ’86, just organized, will number over 12,000
members.
* * * * *
A very impressive lesson in economy (and who does not need one), may
be found in the following: A young lady in Wisconsin, who works in a
family for seventy-five cents per week and her boarding, desired to
read the C. L. S. C. course. No members living near her, and having
no opportunity to borrow the books, she was so anxious to gratify her
thirst for knowledge that she bought them, saving enough money from her
income of seventy-five cents per week. She is now zealously reading,
and expresses herself as delighted with the studies.
* * * * *
On the occasion of the recent visit of German astronomers to Colt’s
Armory, a Gatling gun was brought out and fired perpendicularly. The
heavy ball mounted into the air a distance of two and a quarter miles.
An account says that the ball made the ascent and return, four and
one-half miles in fifty-eight seconds.
* * * * *
The journal to be published by the lunatics on Ward’s Island, under the
title of _The Moon_, is not, according to the Buffalo _Express_, the
first periodical printed by the inmates of an insane asylum. Thirty
years ago, the _Express_ says, the prisoners in the Utica Insane Asylum
published a monthly magazine called _The Opal_, which contained some of
the craziest poetry ever printed. It quotes this couplet as an example:
Canst thou be the mackerel’s queen,
Blighted, plighted Isoline?
* * * * *
According to a reporter of that city, Miss Susan B. Anthony left St.
Louis the other day for Leavenworth with two medium-sized trunks for
baggage. At first the baggage-master objected to check them both
on a single ticket, and demanded pay for extra weight. “But,” said
she, “they together weigh less than the ordinary-sized ‘Saratoga.’
I distribute the weight in this way purposely to save the man who
does the lifting.” The clerk looked at her incredulously. “And you
tell me seriously that you do this simply out of consideration for
the baggage-men?” “I do.” “How long have you done it?” “All my
life. I never purchased a large trunk, for fear I might add to the
over-burdened baggage-man’s afflictions.” The clerk walked off and
conferred with the head of the department. Then the two returned
together. “Do I understand,” said the chief, “that you, of all women,
have been the first to show humanity toward railroad people?” “That
is a tenet of my creed.” “Check that baggage,” said the chief with
emphasis.
* * * * *
Those of our readers interested in C. L. S. C. work will find in our
department for “Local Circles” a great many valuable suggestions
concerning methods of study, questioning, conducting the work of the
circle, and, in some instances, plans may be found for courses of
lectures, concerts, etc. These reports are from members who have seen
the practical workings of their plans, and therefore speak knowingly.
* * * * *
London _Punch_ sent a pleasant greeting to Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes on
his retirement from the professorship at Harvard, in this form:
Your health, dear “Autocrat!” All England owns
Your instrument’s the lyre, and _not_ “the Bones.”
Yet hear our wishes—trust us they’re not cold ones!
That though you give up bones, you may make old ones.
* * * * *
Take care, girls! A professor in Jefferson College, Philadelphia,
says that the habitual use of arsenic “for the complexion” causes the
clearness of the skin it produces at first to be succeeded by a puffy,
dropsical condition.
* * * * *
President Arthur’s New Year reception was interrupted by the sudden
death of one of his callers—the Minister from the Hawaiian Islands. The
music ceased, but the handshaking went on.
* * * * *
A forcible “temperance” argument from the Queen of England is found
in her last speech to Parliament: “The growth of the revenue has been
sensibly retarded by a cause which, in itself, is to be contemplated
with satisfaction. I refer to the diminution of the receipts of the
exchequer from duties on intoxicating liquors.”
* * * * *
Moral reforms move to victory slowly. The Mormons are liable to have
a rest because public sentiment, that was focalized against their
system a year ago in a law enacted by Congress, is in danger of being
inoperative. The friends of the commandment against Mormonism will reap
the harvest if they now enforce the law of Congress with as strong a
public sentiment as they inspired to enact it; otherwise we shall see
the movement a failure.
* * * * *
Girton College, the girls’ college at Cambridge University in England,
is about to be enlarged, and the plans for the new buildings have
been already drafted and submitted to the proper authorities. The
applications for admission have recently been very much in excess of
the accommodation at present offered.
* * * * *
The Alcott homestead in Concord—“Orchard Home”—standing next to the
“Way-side” home of Hawthorne, is a quaint-looking old mansion, with a
peaked roof and gables, high old-fashioned porches, and surrounded by
lofty oaks and elms. It was here that Miss Louisa Alcott wrote “Little
Women” and most of her other works, and here, too, that her younger
sister, Mrs. May Alcott Nericker, executed the beautiful sketches and
paintings that still adorn the parlor walls. It is now the home of
Professor Harris, of the Concord School of Philosophy, and author of
the series of articles on “Education,” now running in “THE CHAUTAUQUAN.”
* * * * *
At the 1880 meeting of the British Association for the Promotion of
Science Dr. Günther thus summed up the objects of museums: “1st. To
afford rational amusement to the mass of the people. 2d. To assist
in the elementary study of the various sciences. 3d. To supply the
specialist with as much material as possible for original research.
And in the case of local museums we may add a 4th. To illustrate local
industries and the scientific features of the district. In starting a
local museum we consider the best plan is to form a scientific society
(a local circle), whose first concern should be to get a suitable room,
well lighted and a good deal larger than there seems to be any actual
necessity for, the importance of this step becoming evident anon. The
next point should be to obtain as many objects as possible for a start,
and from the commencement every member should be required to do his
best in collecting objects whenever he has an opportunity.”
* * * * *
Prof. C. A. Leveridge, of Crawford, N. J., makes a very interesting
statement below, which we are pleased to transmit to our readers: “I
have a number of sets of cabinet specimens, lithological minerals,
representing the glacial and eruptive period, each set numbering 103
varieties and 160 altogether. A few of these came from the Centennial
Exhibition, Philadelphia, 1876, and some of the foreign are quite
scarce. They are interesting either for study or library, and make a
fine appearance. They are all catalogued, named, numbered, and located,
and each set carefully wrapped and packed in box. I have sold a number
and have received many acknowledgments of satisfaction. They are just
the thing for study, showing the coolings (crystallization), rubbings
and scratchings by the ice period. I have used a number of jaspers
instead of the rougher rocks, which I think is better. I sell a working
set for five dollars, and a cabinet set for ten dollars. There is to
me no profit, but I am an invalid and have these specimens, which have
cost me a great deal of money.”
* * * * *
The family of President Garfield have been spending the holidays all
at home together. Mrs. Garfield is busy arranging a memorial room,
set apart to contain relics and mementos of her illustrious husband.
The walls of it are covered with framed resolutions and letters of
sympathy, and there will be tables and cabinets loaded with similar
tokens. When the arrangement is complete, the room will be one of the
most noteworthy spots on earth, containing as it will expressions of
love and respect from people in almost every nation of the world.
* * * * *
The London demand for bonds of the late Confederate States of America
has recently become stronger than at any other time since the collapse
of the Confederate government. A large block was bought a few days ago
in Baltimore, on orders from a London banking house, at the rate of
nine dollars and seventy-five cents a thousand. The demand has resulted
in placing in the market several thousand Confederate dollars’ worth of
bonds that have been pasted on fire-boards and screens.
* * * * *
One of the inconsistencies of our civilization may be seen in this
item: “A Nevada penitentiary convict says that he was sent to prison
for being dishonest, and is there kept at work cutting out pieces
of pasteboard to put between the soles of shoes in place of honest
leather.”
* * * * *
The people of the oil regions of Pennsylvania were afflicted with the
spirit of speculation in oil, near the close of 1882. Professional
men, traders of every kind, women who had saved a few hundred dollars,
and, indeed, all classes of people, some with large sums of money, and
others with small sums, ventured to speculate. Oil went from fifty
cents per barrel up to one dollar and thirty-seven cents, and then
dropped back to seventy-six cents. The result is that a great many
people in moderate circumstances have lost all they owned. To hundreds
of men and women it has been as disastrous as if all their property
had been consumed by fire. _Moral._—It is wrong to speculate. It is
dangerous every way, and, besides, it is gambling.
* * * * *
The Rev. Leroy Hooker gives us his comparative view of some of the
poets in the _Canadian Magazine_ as follows: “It may not be too much
to say that among the English-writing bards of the century, Tennyson’s
only near competitor for the first place is Longfellow; and that
Longfellow’s title to a place above Lowell is based not so much to his
having projected upon the thought and sentiment of the century a more
potent and permanent influence, as upon the fact that he has given us,
in ‘Hiawatha,’ the nearest approach to a great epic poem that has been
produced within the period—not excepting anything that even Tennyson
has written.”
* * * * *
The Rev. E. J. L. Baker, a trustee of the Chautauqua Assembly,
died suddenly of heart disease at his home in Pleasantville, Pa.,
on Saturday afternoon, December 30. He had been a preacher in the
Methodist Episcopal Church for the past fifty years, and died in
his field of labor when seventy-three years old. He was at one time
presiding elder, and three times a delegate to the General Conference.
Once when the conference met in Boston, Massachusetts, he cast his
vote for Bishop Simpson and helped to elect him to the Episcopacy.
Mr. Baker was a man of dignified bearing, of exceptional strength and
force of character, and, while as a preacher he was not among the most
brilliant, yet in his sermons he presented the central truths of the
Bible in an interesting and powerful manner. Among ministers he made a
fine reputation as a debater in a deliberative body. He was a Christian
gentleman, a genial companion, and a workman that needed not to be
ashamed. He died full of faith in the gospel that saved him, and that
he had preached to others so many years.
* * * * *
A gold, open work C. L. S. C. badge by Henry Hart, of Brockport, New
York, is one of the latest inventions we have seen for members of the
C. L. S. C. It is a beautiful design, makes a handsome pin, and it is
sure to please every eye that loves the gold that glitters.
* * * * *
The attempt to injure the reputation of the lamented President Garfield
by publishing the letters that passed between him and Mr. Dorsey during
the presidential campaign, is a great failure. Mr. Dorsey is on trial
for the crimes he is alleged to have committed as one of the Star
Route conspirators. Let him be tried on the merits of the case, and
if guilty, let him be convicted, and if innocent, acquitted. But any
effort like that made recently to palliate the wrongs of the living,
at the expense of the dead president, will be resented by the American
people. The verdict of the people is that James A. Garfield was one
of our purest and best public men, both in his private and public
character. He was tried for nearly a score of years in that political
cauldron, the House of Representatives, and never found wanting. Let
him rest, for
“The death-wind swept him to his soft repose,
As frost, in spring time, blights the early rose.”
* * * * *
The Rev. Dr. Buckley, in the New York _Christian Advocate_, thus honors
a worthy public man: “To the Hon. H. W. Blair, United States Senator
from New Hampshire, belongs the special honor of having introduced
and eloquently supported to its successful adoption the amendment
prohibiting the employment in the United States civil service of
persons addicted to the use of intoxicating liquor as a beverage. The
citizens of New Hampshire and the friends of temperance throughout the
country will not soon forget this great service.”
EDITOR’S TABLE.
[We solicit questions of interest to the readers of THE
CHAUTAUQUAN to be answered in this department. Our space
does not always allow us to answer as rapidly as questions
reach us. Any relevant question will receive an answer in
its turn.]
Q. Who was Taylor, the author of “Holy Living and Dying?”
A. Jeremy Taylor was an English theologian and bishop, and an author
of some eminence. He was born in Cambridge in 1613, and died at
Lisburn, Ireland, in 1667. He received his education at Caius College,
Cambridge, where he graduated about 1633. In 1638 he became rector of
Uppingham, in Rutland. He was a decided adherent of Charles I, whom he
served as chaplain in the civil wars. “The Liberty of Prophesying,”
published in 1647, was, perhaps, his greatest work. He afterwards
published his “Holy Living and Dying,” which is now, perhaps, the best
known of his works. This was followed by “The Great Exemplar, or The
Life of Christ,” and several other works. In 1658 he removed to Lisburn
and was appointed Bishop of Down and Connor in 1660.
Q. Where can a copy of the revised Greek text—of the New Testament—used
by the revision committee be obtained?
A. Send to Harper & Brothers, New York.
Q. Will THE CHAUTAUQUAN please give me information in regard to the
origin of “The Curfew?”
A. The Curfew was a bell rung at nightfall, designed to give notice to
the inhabitants to cover their fires, extinguish lights and retire to
rest. The practice was instituted by William the Conqueror.
Q. Please give a list of some of the best works on “Mythology.”
A. “Student’s Manual of Mythology” by White, “Ancient Mythology” by
Dwight, “Manual of Mythology” by Murray, and “Ancient Mythology” by
Keightley.
Q. Who was Tullia, who drove her chariot wheels over the body of her
father?
A. Tullia was the daughter of Servius Tullius, the sixth king of Rome,
who reigned from about 578 to 534 B. C.
Q. By whom was the Turkish government designated as “the sick man of
Europe?”
A. By Nicholas of Russia.
Q. Is the work, “The Treasury of David,” a commentary on the psalms by
Mr. Spurgeon?
A. No. It is literally a treasury of all that Spurgeon has been able to
collect of value from all authors upon the Book of Psalms. There is no
aim at originality, except in conception and method.
Q. Who is the author of the Latin proverb, _Qui non vetat peccare, cum
possit, jubet_, and what is the translation?
A. The author is Seneca, and the translation is, “He who does not
prevent a crime when he can, encourages it.”
Q. When and where will occur the next General Conference of the
Methodist Episcopal Church?
A. A year from next spring, in the city of Philadelphia.
Q. Which is the older of the two American poets, Whittier or Holmes?
A. Whittier was born in 1808, Holmes in 1809.
Q. Who is the author of “An ill wind that bloweth no man good?”
A. It is from “Idleness” by John Heywood.
Q. Will you please inform a subscriber of THE CHAUTAUQUAN what is date
of birth and death of the poet John G. Saxe?
A. Born 1816; living still.
Q. I would like to know something about the Jewish Talmud, and where I
could obtain a copy of it. Will THE CHAUTAUQUAN please inform me?
A. Talmud is from the Hebrew word _lamed_, and signifies to learn. It
contains the complete civil and canonical law of the Jews, embracing
the Mishna and Gemara. The former is the doctrine, the latter the
teaching as the words imply. They reveal much of the customs,
practices, and notions about legal, medical, ethical, and astronomical
subjects that belonged to the Jewish nation of antiquity. A good copy
of the Talmud is that which bears the name of Barclay, and published by
John Murray, London.
Q. I frequently see reference made to the “Miserere.” What is meant?
A. The psalm usually selected for acts of a penitential character. It
is the 51st psalm. It is also applied to a musical composition adapted
to this psalm.
Q. Is spiritualism on the increase or decrease at present?
A. At a meeting of spiritualists in New York, a few days ago, one
of the number affirmed, without mentioned contradiction, that the
number of good mediums is less than it was twenty years ago, and he
bewailed the degeneracy which made it impossible to get satisfactory
manifestations now-a-days. He said that manifestations are getting
weaker, and he feared that in twenty-five years not even a good rap
would be vouchsafed. Spiritualism will increase and decrease and
continue as long as a peculiar class of mortals are permitted to live
in the world.
Q. Who was Marie de Medici?
A. Marie De Medici was the daughter of Francis, Grand Duke of Tuscany.
She was born at Florence in 1573, and married in 1600 to Henry IV. of
France. On the death of Henry she became regent, for which office she
proved herself utterly incompetent. On account of offense given to her
subjects by her partiality for unworthy favorites, she was imprisoned,
but escaped, and was afterward imprisoned by her son, Louis XIII. After
a second escape she died at Cologne in 1642.
Q. What was the “Kit-Cat Club,” and when did it flourish?
A. A club formed in London in 1688 by the leading Whigs of the day; so
called after Christopher Cat, a pastry cook, who supplied the mutton
pies, and in whose house it was held. Sir Godfrey Kneller painted the
portraits of the club members for Jacob Tonson, the secretary, and in
order to accommodate them to the room in which they were placed, he
was obliged to make them three-quarter lengths; hence, a three-quarter
portrait is still called a kit-cat. Steele, Addison, Congreve and
Walpole were all members of the club.
Q. What is the origin of the phrase, “To pour oil on troubled waters?”
A. It is said that Prof. Horsford stilled the surface of the sea in a
stiff breeze by pouring a vial of oil upon it; and Commodore Wilkes saw
the same effect produced during a storm off the Cape of Good Hope, by
oil leaking from a whale ship. The phrase probably originated from the
old proverb, “A soft answer turneth away wrath.”
Q. Please inform me through THE CHAUTAUQUAN where I can get a good
Spanish-English dictionary?
A. Seoane’s Spanish-English and English-Spanish Dictionary, price
$6.00; the same abridged, for $2.50, can be obtained from any prominent
publishing house.
GRADUATES OF THE C. L. S. C.
The following is the list of C. L. S. C. graduates of the Class of
1882. There are seventeen hundred names. Miss Kate F. Kimball has
prepared the list with great care. A diploma has been presented to
every graduate by the Rev. Dr. Vincent, Superintendent of Instruction.
_New York._
Mrs P Abbott
Julia A Adams
John G Allen
Mrs Maggie A Allen
Mrs Amanda Allen
Inez J Ames
George H Anderson
Mrs Lidia J Anderson
Helen M T Ayres
Mary Ann Babcock
Mrs S J Bailey
Mrs Milton Bailey
Florence V E Baldwin
Mrs Eliza E Barber
Minnie A Barney
Fannie Barnhouse
Mrs Martha G Barrett
Luella A Beaujean
Alcesta Beck
Mrs F E Beckwith
Mary A Bemus
Mrs Jennie A Bemus
Mrs Charles D Bigelow
Charles D Bigelow
Mrs T S Bly
Ida Hopkins Bond
Alvina C Booth
Gerette Boyce
Mrs Mary C Branch
Mrs Anna E Branch
Charles F Brett
Ella Brewster
Altha W Briggs
C E Brinkworth
Mrs C E Brinkworth
William A Brodie
Mrs E M Brown
Mrs J H Brown
Ella M Brown
Mrs E D Browne
Mrs C E Brumagine
Anna Bugbee
Mary M Bullock
Mrs Emma J Burgess
Vincent Burgess
Edward S Burgess
Theodore C Burgess
Fred C Burney
Chester Warren Burton
J Louise Bushnell
Etta E Candee
Alice Wade Card
Gertie A Carter
Hattie B S Carter
Lucy B Case
Mrs E M Chadwick
Izora S Chandler
Geo W Chandler
Rev J E Chapin
Martha A Chase
Randilla W Chase
Mary A Chase
Rev Almon T Clarke
Mrs Almon T Clarke
Georgie C Clement
Altie E Cole
Nancy L Collins
Ellen C L Conklin
Mary Columbia Cook
Mrs Jennie C Cook
Mrs Jennie E Copeland
Abigail Couch
Eleanor M Countryman
Mrs Linda W Covey
Stella Cox
Mrs Harriet A N Craft
Mrs Charlotte Craig
Louise E Cravatte
Frank W Crossfield
Annie Cummings
M A Curtis, M D
Mrs E F Curtiss
Clarence O Clark
Julia E Dailey
Mrs Charles W Davis
Ursula M Dawley
Eda T Dean
Martha M Dederer
Martha A E Denison
Rev Cassius H Dibble
Miss Clara Dickey
Mary P Dodge
Mrs S H Donnan
Emma B Dorn
Dexter D Dorn
Remsen B DuBois
William A Duncan
Sara L Dunning
Louise F Dusenbury
Bessie Eddy
Benjamin F Edsall
Mrs Mattie D Elliott
Edwin Elmore
Eva S Elmore
Harriet D Fisher
Mrs Laura M Farwell
Mrs M L Fenton
Carrie C Ferrin
Charles W Fielder
James R Flagg
Mrs Ella F Flanders
Mrs Louise C Flint
Lemuel Thomas Foote
Miss Emily L Forbes
Belle Forbes
Rev B J Forrester
Phebe Palmer Foster
Lydia A Foster
Miss Franc E Freeman
Samuel Alden Freeman
M Etta Frink
Helen Frost
Miss Libbie K Fullager
Mrs Lucy T Fuller
Mary Ida Gazlay
Mary E Geer
Walter Gibbs
Mrs J C Gifford
Charles Gillingham
Moses W Gleason
Adelaide A Gleason
Lucy A Gleason
Orlando E Godwin
Helen M Goodell
William C Gorman
Ida T Gorman
Sara E Gouldy
Jennie A Gouldy
Mrs L C Graham
Augusta K Grant
Mary Graybiel
Otis J Green
Mrs Mary Greene
Jno T Greenleaf
Mrs J T Greenleaf
Phebe A Griswold
Emma Griswold
Julia M Guest
Lydia A Grant
Mrs Alice Hadley
Rev Levi L Hager
Emeline M Hager
Helen A Hall
Frederic M Hall
Eliza Ann Hallock
Fannie H Hamilton
Mrs Geo I Hamilton
Mattie W Hamman
Miss Rettie Hanna
Martha J Hanna
Susie E Hardenburg
Amy Hardenburg
Mary K Harmon
Miss Eliza L Harmon
Sophronia R Harmon
Luther Harmon
Mrs Flora R Harrison
Mrs D W Hatch
D W Hatch
Julia B Hayes
Mrs Susan R Hazard
Mary A Helmes
Henrietta Hemstreet
Harriet C Henry
Fred B Hibbard
Emily F Hickok
R Annie Hicks
Josiah Holbrook
Eliza J Hollenbeck
Mrs A C Holmes
Victoria L Horton
Rev Almon A Horton
Carrie W Hoster
Ellura L A Hough
David M Hough
Emma F Howard
Mrs Jennie Hower
Lavinia Cheshire Hoyt
Jennie I Humble
Eva Hurlbut
Mrs Edith Husted
Edwin Merton Husted
Lillian M Hynes
Charlotte Hequembourg
Mrs N E Irwin
Morris D Jackson
Florence J Jagger
Mary A Janes
Mrs Flora S Jillett
Mrs Arlouine G Jones
Louise A Jones
Mrs W H Keeler
Alzina E Kellogg
David G Kelly
Alice Augusta Kidder
Mrs Pardon L Kimball
Caroline E King
Cenie Kingman
Celina H Kingsley
Ellen B Kingsley
Emma V Kirkland
Mrs Lucy E Kirkland
Caroline Kittinger
Mrs Dr J Kittredge
Eudora E Klock
Melissa M Knapp
Mrs M L Koyer
Arthur S Koyer
J A Kummer
Mrs Lina B Kummer
Helen A King
Mary E Lacy
Mariana C Ladd
Margaret B Landreth
Mrs E L Lang
Mary L Lawrence
Mrs R P Lawton
Elsie E Leet
Adaline A V F Lester
Anna M Letchworth
Orrando B Lewis
Ernest H Lines
Sarah A Little
Cornelia Louise Lloyd
Nettie S Long
Gussie Lord
Miss Stella A Lord
Franklin W Loucks
Ada J Lyman
Lucie Read Lyon
Nelson E Lyon
Harmon A Landgraff
Anna Burrows Mann
Frank Many
Wilber F Markham
Mrs Nancy E Martin
Hannah A Martin
Ophelia R Martin
Homer Beach Mason
Gertrude McKelly
Henry Clay Milliman
Florence F Milliman
Frank H Mills
Harry D Moore
Mrs Eunice O Morgan
Julia A Morian
Mary E Mosher
Frank Moss
Frank Murphy
Olivia E A Newton
Mrs M E Norton
Mrs Annie Norton
Mary R Norton
Elijah C Norton
Emily A Odell
Mrs Lessie Olmsted
Mrs W H Olmsted
Wm W Onderdonk
Alton W Onthank
Z Hibbard Owen
Mrs Tilla W Palmer
Nellie C Palmer
Rev David R Palmer
Clarence S Palmer
Mrs Lee Palmer
Mrs T S Park
Mary Parker
Chas N Parker
Mrs W S Parks
Mrs L E Partridge
S Kate Payne
Fred E Pearsall
Bessie Peck
Elizabeth Perkins
Wm H Perrin
Mrs Dwight Perrin
Mrs H Louisa Perry
Sarah A Persell
Annette M Persons
Lizzie M Petrie
Mary Louise Pettit
Mrs Julia A Phelps
Miss Mary A Pierce
Anna E Pierson
Miss Kate Pindar
Mrs J N Porter
Mrs Emeline H Post
O Worden Powers
John F Randolph
Arthur B Raymond
Lucy A Reeder
Lizzie M Reid
Jennie L Reid
Miss Angie M Reynolds
Edward R Rice
Alvin B Rice, M D
Mrs Helen M Rice
Frances A Ritchie
Elizabeth Robertson
Mrs J P Robinson
Mrs M E B Rogers
John B Rogers
Wm H Rogers
Maggie C Rosa
Laura Rosa
Edward B Rosa
Clara M Rhoades
Mrs Eugene D Sage
Sabrie L Sargent
Mrs George Savage
Mrs Julia Seaver Scott
R W Scott
Mrs Walter L Sessions
Julia R B Sessions
Frank E Sessions
Mrs L B Sessions
Mary L Seymour
J E Shaver
Mrs Ransom Sheldon
Judson Sibley
Mary Siggins
Lizzie F Simmons
Mrs Eliza Skinner
Christie Skinner
James A H Skinner
Mrs Laura Ada Skinner
Rev Milton Smith
Alma B Smith
Kate F Smith
Eunice L Smith
Virginia D Smith
Mrs Jennie M Smith
Ella Letchworth Smith
Martha M Smith
Edmund Z Southwick
Marietta J Southwick
Miss L T Southworth
Helen M Stanton
Carrie E Staples
Louisa K Stebbins
Mary H Stebbins
Mary C Steel
Eva J Stevens
Harriet A Stevens
Coryell G Stevens
Mrs Kate P St John
Mrs Sarah F St John
Julia M St John
Eda B Stone
Alice E Stowe
Maria M Stowell
Sarah Sutton
Eleanor Swaine
Malvina F Sweetland
J Wesley Sweetland
Eva M Sweetland
Ann Adell Sydney
Harvey Symonds
Louise W Strang
Mary E Sykes
Mrs Sue W Stoddard
Martha A Taber
Marie Antoinette Taylor
Emma C Terry
Sara C Terwilliger
Martha J M Thayer
Walter L Thompson
Emma L Thompson
S DeFrancis Thompson
Elizabeth Tilton
Ella Tompkins
Marcia L Tompkins
Clara D Tower
Mary L Townley
Mrs George W Tracy
May A Tripp
Edward Troy
Mrs Lavinia B Turner
Ida A Tuthill
Eunice E Tuttle
Dell Tuttle
Maggie G Van Ingen
Nellie D Van Ingen
Mary E Van Kleeck
Nancie L Van Ness
Mrs H K Van Rensselaer
Harriet A Wade
Rev Benj F Wade
Mrs K W Wallace
Frances A Wallis
Rose E Wallis
Ora L Wasson
Edgar B Watson
James Birney Weber
Mrs J B Weber
Mrs C D Webster
Louella E Weed
Addie Wellington
Elias Avery Wheat
Allie M Wheeler
Mrs Marilla C Wheeler
Lydia M White
Miss Libbie J Whitley
Elmina Eliza Whitney
Amasa D Wilder
Marion M Wilder
Minnie Williams
Lillian Ida Williams
Mrs Emir B Williams
Jennie L Williams
M Adele Williams
J E Winsor
Thos Lippincott Wood
Addie M Woodin
Mrs S E Woodin
Mrs F E Woods
Whiting S Worden
Thos G Young
Mrs Addie M Young
Mrs T G Young
_Long Island._
William H Lowery
Julia E T Sheridan
Carrie F Underhill
D Harris Underhill
Miss Eugenie Villefeu
_Pennsylvania._
Jennie M Adair
William Newell Aiken
Nannie Alexander
Jennie M Allan
Henry M Ash
Hattie A Aspinwall
Mrs Nellie C Adams
Minnie B Babbitt
L T Baker
Lydia M Baker
Frank D Barnes
Libbie A Barnes
Joseph R Barnes
Eleanor G Barrett
Kate Eliza Barton
Mrs C W Battles
H Bruce Beatty
M Vina Beatty
May L S Beatty
Sara P Bedford
Miss H M Bickley
William P Bignell
Eliza H Black
Nannie Y Boice
Mrs J R Bowen
Sarah Bowman
Sarah J Boyer
James M Bray
Mrs Frances M Brown
Carrie A Brown
Mrs Samuel Q Brown
Anna Buckbee
Lucius H Bugbee
Hattie R Blair
Samantha Caldwell
Eleanor Campbell
J J Campbell
Alvira Campbell
Mrs H C Campbell
Margaret E Canon
Mrs J T Carpenter
John T Carpenter
Josephine E M Carter
Ellen M Chace
Rev H M Chamberlain
Mrs Wesley Chambers
Mary E Chesnut
Alice G Clark
Charles L Clark
Silas M Clark
Annie J Clarke
Ellen M Clemons
Anna M Clift
Mrs Marcia Clover
Annie R Colburn
J Frank Condon
Celinda Cook
Ada Gertrude Cook
Rosalia Cook
Edna Cynthia Cook
Mrs Lizzie S Cook
Mary E Cook
Mrs Judson H Cook
Mary E Cooper
J J Covert, M D
Annie E Cox
Mrs M J Crawford
John W Crawford
Mrs Flora Criswell
Cordelia A Culbertson
Mrs Amanda F Curtis
Mrs Edwin C Custard
Mrs C H Dale
Benjamin S Dartt
Mrs L D Davenport
Miss Maria H Dawson
Annie M DeKnight
George W Dille, M D
Mrs Juliet Donaldson
Puella E Dornblaser
Lettie A Dunham
Anna C Dunlap
Mira L Dunlap
Mrs W J Dunn
Maggie J Dunn
Nellie Dunn
Ettie Dunn
Jennie E Dunn
J Fletcher Dyer
Margaret A Dysart
Flora C Eaton
Sam’l J M Eaton, D D
Leonard Hobart Eaton
Mrs Jennie Eberman
George M Eberman
John M Edwards
Maggie J Edwards
Mrs S A Ensworth
Lydia L Evans
Annie B Fraser
Adelia L Fausett
John Aubrey Freeman
Frank Freeman
Lucy W Fell
Anna E Fish
Lizzie M Fisher
Abrilla Fisher
Miss E M Fiske
Rev Theodore L Flood
Macie I Flower
Thomas J Ford
Rev C W Foulke
Lizzie C Foulke
Jason N Fradenburgh
Mary M Friday
W W Fritts
Orsavilla V Fritts
Fred W Gail
Mrs Mary I Gardner
William W S Gephart
Mrs Josephine Getchell
Mattie E Glenn
Amanda B Golding
Helen M Goodrich
John Dudley Goodwin
Annie P Gordon
O H P Graham
Mrs E B Grandin
Kate E Grant
Joseph Guignon
Edith J Guignon
Mrs Julia A Guignon
Angie Graham
Sarah Haldeman
Joseph E Hall
Frances E Hamilton
Margaret Ellen Hare
Luella A Harris
Mrs Susie M Harrison
Julia L Harrison
F W Hastings
Margaretta K Hastings
Oran L Haverly
Mrs E D Hawks
Samuel W Hay
A W Hayes
Amy E Hayes
Mattie C Hayward
Juliette S Hill
Mrs William Hoffman
Thomas Benton Hoover
Mrs Emma S Hoover
Nan A W Hoover
Annie Wallace Horner
Martha P Howard
E Harriet Howe
Mrs G H Humason
George H Humason
Hiram H Hurd
Hannah G Irwin
G W Irwin
Rev Wm A Jackson
Matilda Jamison
Alice W Jefferson
Ophelia E Jessop
Mary E Johnston
Sarah E Jones
Mrs Sarah E Jones
Mrs Belle L Jones
David W Jones
Julius B Kaufman
Hettie A Keatley
Mrs Esther Alice Kerr
George W Kessler
Caroline W Kessler
Bertha A King
Dessa H King
Nannie J King
Martin Luther Knight
Margaret M Krepp
Charles J Kunz
Mrs Martha S Ladd
Mrs I Laing
Miss S K Lamb
Mrs J F Laubender
Lizzie M Lesser
Marcellus A Line
Mrs Martha H Locke
Mrs H E Lockwood
Ella May Loomis
Lizzie C Lyle
L Anna Lyon
Marcus W Lyon
Jennie M Lytle
Mrs S MacMath
Ida Adella Mallery
Henry J Manley
Jennie G Manning
Samuel Manning
Mrs C Markham
Mrs Emilie D Martin
Albert M Martin
Helen Martin
Luemma H Matter
Beulah Matter
Margaret P McClean
Elizabeth McClean
Lucy E McClintock
Washington R McCloy
Mrs Ada T McCollin
William A McConnell
Carrie H McDowell
J C McDowell
Ella M McElroy
Mary McGlaughlin
Susan E McGlaughlin
Ida D McKinny
Margaret M McLean
Jane E McNaughton
Mrs Fannie McRae
DeEtte Mead
Mrs Jennie Mead
J F Merriman
Mina F Metcalf
Augustus L Metcalf
Mrs E D Middleton
Caleb R Middleton
Louisa Caroline Miller
Mrs J E Mitchell
Thos Montgomery
Lizzie H Morrison
Mary Morrison
Laura C H Mull
Mary A Nicol
Sarah D Northrup
Mary Oglesby
Mary E Owen
Anna Kate Owen
Rebecca J Packer
Wm Warren Painter
Ella G Painter
Hiles C Pardoe
Rev Thos F Parker
Anna V Parkin
Mrs Villa N Payne
Rev Cearing Peters
Miss Sarah Perr
Hermon W Phillips
Alice H Pickett
Elizabeth W Pickop
B Frank Pinkerton
Mrs Marie Pinkerton
Cynthia A Pinney
Mrs Maria C Pitcher
Mrs Fannie B Pitts
Mrs S W Pomeroy
Mrs D F Pomeroy
Lucie Pooley
Mrs D S Pratt
Miss Isabella Pratt
George Weaver Price
Mary Jane Price
Margaretta D Purves
Miss Sarah J Payne
Mrs Mary Radcliffe
Clara M Raymond
Mrs J Reamer
Malvenia C Reeser
Eli S Reinhold
Rev Jas C Rhodes
Mrs A M Rice
Chas Curtin Robinson
Chas W Robinson
Margaret E Rogers
Amanda Rollin
Jacob Warren Roop
Mrs Sadie A Rowley
Eva Rupert
Miss Flora J Ryman
Mrs F A Sammons
Miss F M Sawyers
Samuel A Saxman
Eva S Schick
Mary E Schick
Wm F Schill
John R Schooley
Edwin B Schreiner
Annie C Schreiner
Rev Platt W Scofield
John Cook Scofield
Mrs Maria S Scofield
George Seebick
Mrs Martha Sheesholtz
Rev G W Shadduck
Adelaide F Sheldon
Ella N Sheldon
Winfield Scott Shepard
Emma J Shepard
Mary Elizabeth Sheriff
Nan L Sheriff
Mrs J R Sherwood
John Calvin Shimer
Luta B Shugert
Emma Siggins
Wm Barry Smith
Mrs W Barry Smith
Crawford P Smith
Mrs J H Smith
Eva H Smith
Mrs C M Snyder
Mary Stahr
Chas C Stalker
Mrs C C Stalker
Miss Saidie M Sterrett
Miss Mary J Sterrett
T Dickson Stewart
Kate M Stewart
Carrie M Stone
Rev Martin V Stone
Lottie A Swengel
Uriah F Swengel
Amelia Swezey
Jennie Swezey
Annie M Switzer
Stella Young Tabor
Josephine P Taggart
Jennie E Taylor
Deforest C Temple
Mrs D C Temple
Maud E Temple
Mrs C F Temple
Mrs C H Thompson
Mrs C P Thompson
Mrs N R Thompson
Carriebelle Thomson
Margaret J Thorpe
Mrs Simon E Tifft
Rev Seneca B Torrey
Emma Townley
Lottie Tull
Mollie L Urell
Hattie E Vaughn
Miss Lillie A Venner
Mary J Venner
Rev Bethuel T Vincent
Minerva E Vincent
Emma G Walker
Mrs Emily M Warner
Sarah A Warner
Nellie E Webster
Martha P M Welsh
Walter Scott Welsh
Emma Welshan
Ellen Wetherbee
Maria C Wetmore
Sallie A Weyhenmeyer
Rachel A L Wheeler
Mrs F M Wheelock
Louise W Wickham
May E Wightman
Annie E Wilcox
Nelson O Wilhelm
J Ada Williams
W N Wilson
Martha D Winslow
Mrs Ada H Wood
Charles B Wood
Emily C Woodruff
Kate S Woods
Charles H Wright
Miss Annie E Yeager
Mrs B M Young
Charles H Zehnder
_Ohio._
Miss Nettie J Allen
Mrs Caroline D Allison
James Allison
Mrs Maggie Anderson
Miss Retta Armstrong
A Ægesta Beck
Hortensia H Beeman
John Beetham
Ella Beistle
Olive H Bentley
Ella V Bickerstaff
Miss Elmira Biggs
Minnie S Bishop
Sylvester P Bishop
Mrs Lucy Bliss
Charles A Boughton
Quartus N Bridgeman
Artie Y Bridgeman
Fannie T Brooks
Walter E Brooks
Francis A Brown
Maggie Brown
Lizzie A Brown
Mrs Maria N Buck
Lucia A Bullard
Meda Burge
Hattie Burner
Cynthia S Burnett
Mrs A F Burrows
Elizabeth A Buzzard
Burton Beebe
Joseph Ellis Barrett
Mrs Hattie H Baker
Mrs John Cahall
Homer C Cain
Albert N Camp
Lucy E Campbell
M M Carrothers
Mrs Emma Cellars
Mrs Geo A Chipman
Rev William A Clark
Ella L Clinefelter
Henry A Cobbledic
Cora A Comer
Mrs Emma B Converse
May D Couch
Addison P Couch
Mrs Emeline Cox
Lydia E Cranston
Mattie B Curtis
Mrs Harriet D Curtis
Eliza Lindsay DeFrees
Lida Belle De Frees
Elizab’h DeNormandie
M C DeSteigner
Annie C Deveny
Elvira C Devereaux
Helen M Devereaux
Anna M Dillaway
Susie A Dillin
Elizabeth B Doren
L L Doud
Harriet E Doud
Alvin W Dunham
Frank A DuPuy
Mrs Sophia Durfee
Charles W Dustin
Jas Lincoln Edwards
Mrs Mary K Eggleson
DeWitt C Eggleson
Henderson Elliott
Ada J Elliott
Anna M Ellsworth
Lida J Ellsworth
Mary J Evans
Nettie H Edwards
R A Field
Josephine L Forsaith
Rev J G Fraser
Martha M Fraser
Lydia T Freeman
Lura Freeman
Phebe S Freeman
Marion M French
Royce Day Fry
Mrs Carlyle L Gaddis
Lucretia A Gaddis
Sarah W Gaddis
Mary E Galpin
Fidelia T Gee
Mary F Gibbs
Ernest E Gilbert
Rev Augustus H Gillet
Mina D Goforth
Mary A Grating
Hattie M Graham
Josie S J Griffiths
Carrie A Hale
Rev James Hardman
Mrs C R Harmon
Emily E Harroun
Mrs Jettie M Harroun
O N Hartshorn
Cordelia S Hartupee
Mrs Frances C Haskell
Sue J Heffner
David A Heffner
Belle Heffner
Frank Heibertshausen
Alia V Hemler
Mrs B C Herrick
Lizzie R Hervey
Mrs Elizabeth F Hewitt
Bessie C Hicks
Mrs Julia M Higley
Effie O Hildreth
Josephine Hinsdale
Frances T Holmes
Miss Elissa Houston
Mrs J H Howe
Miss Mary A Hubbard
Mary E Hyde
W A Ingham
Lettie C Jackson
Mary M Jaquet
Mrs S W Jennings
Belle Johnson
Sophia Johnston
E E Jones
Samuel Ashton Keen
Mrs Hannah Kelley
Mrs Maria S Kellogg
Mary A Kelly
Coleman G Keys
Miss Celia W King
Margaret McL King
Addison P King (died)
Carrie C King
Lizzie King
Mary A Kinnear
Mrs Elizabeth C Kirby
Clara L Knight
May Lambert
Mrs Mary L Lampson
Mrs Mary Lane
Mrs L C Laylin
Adna B Leonard
Caroline A Leonard
Maria M Lickorish
Estelle A Lindsay
George Logan
Mrs Cornelia Logan
Miss Lide E Lyons
Clara E Leonard
Caleb A Malmsbury
Louis Daniel Maltby
Herman G Marshall
Clara B Marshall
Mrs Sarah Mathews
Archie M Mattison
Elizabeth E Maxey
Henrietta G McCaslin
Sophia L B McCrosky
Mary D McLean
Lester McLean
Annie M McLean
Wilbur F McLean
Myrta A McMurry
Marian C McSherry
Miss Minnie C Merritt
Martha A Messer
Mrs Anna M Mills
Miss Rachel E Moore
Lou A Moore
Mrs R R Moore
Effie M L Moore
Emma L Morgan
Jennie Morgan
Lizzie J Morrow
Rev A D Morton
Robert Mott
Mrs Mary C O Munson
Caroline E Mussey
Lissa J McKitrick
Mrs T C Nighman, Jr
John G O’Connell
Eleanor C O’Connell
Lottie R Oldrieve
Henry W Owen
Wilanna Paine
Mary L Painter
P W Parkhurst
Mrs P W Parkhurst
Mrs Nannie R Parrish
Mrs A W Patrick
Mrs Laura E Paull
Kate B Pease
Miss Cornelia A Peck
Fannie Peck
Mrs Minerva M Perry
Mrs Lavinia C Pickett
Hattie N Pierce
Carrie Pomeroy
Mrs C T Preston
Mrs M J Pyle
Lucy A Peters
Mrs Ella R Ransom
Emily Raymond
Mrs Carrie L Reed
Jacob Rice
Anastasia L Richards
Mame E Ricksecker
Mrs Salome K Rike
Mary S Rogers
Benjamin L Rowland
Kate Ruckman
Annetta W Ryan
Edwin F Sample
Miss Tillie Sample
Maggie Saumenig
Hannah M Scott
Jennie Scott
Cora G Searl
Charles F Sexauer, Jr
Jennie A Sexton
Mrs Rebecca L Sheeley
V G Sheeley
Mrs Annie P Shepherd
Mrs Kate Q Silcott
Ernest A Simons
T S Smedley
Belle Smith
Mrs Lucy L Smith
Francis D Snow
Mrs M F Snow
Matilda Snyder
Caroline R Southland
Wilbur L Sparks
Belle Sparks
Mrs Mary A Springer
Oscar Wendell Squier
Wesley M Stanford
Lizzie Stauffer
Mary A Stephens
James F Stephenson
Mary E Stevens
James M Stevenson
Sallie G Stewart
Thomas H Stewart
Mrs Maggie E Stewart
Melle T Stone
Mrs M M Swan
Miss Mary Saxton
Mary E Talbott
Mattie C Telford
Clara P Temple
Allen I Terrell
Anna P Thomas
Miss Mary Thompson
Mrs Sarah Tibbits
Elizabeth C Tibbets
Harriet E Tracy
Chas O Tracy
Percie A Trowbridge
Louise Weeks Turner
M Sherman Turrill
Mary E B Tompkins
Mrs M L VanDoren
W C VanNess
Mrs Phebe M Vincent
Mary E Wainwright
Minna L Waite
George E Walker
Fannie Core Wallace
Carrie A Walworth
Warren F Walworth
Rev Benj C Warner
Mary Warner
Sara N Washburn
Mrs Ida J S Weedon
Viola A Wheaton
S Virginia Whitmore
Mary P Whitney
Alice C Wigton
Ellen H Wildman
Samuel A Wildman
Lucinda H Wilkins
Sarah B Williams
Mrs Orson B Williams
Harriet N Wilson
Miss Nan E Wiseman
Emily F Wolf
Celina Wood
Mrs R A Worthington
Ella J Wright
W Wm Wynne
_Massachusetts._
Melvina A F Adams
Mrs George M Adams
M Louise Alden
Mrs Wm S Andrews
Adelaide E Austin
Oliver S Baketel
Rosie M Baketel
Margaret F Barstow
Horace S Bassett
Mrs Chas F Batchelder
Clement E Bates
Mrs Ruby W Bates
Clarence T Boynton
Ellen L B Bradley
Mary E Bullock
Lucy L Bullock
Thomas Cherry
Mrs Daniel P Clark
Miss Lucy O Cowles
Emma A Daniels
Sarah E Draper
Martha Jane Farwell
Rachel A Faxon
Miss Flora M Fay
Emma P H Fay
Mary E Felton
Mrs Ada M Fiske
Arabel Fellows Forbes
Sarah D Ford
S Matilda Foster
Almira H French
Fred P Glazier
Susie A Goodwin
Ella Maria Graves
Jessie Duncan Grassie
Henry M Greenough
Isaac K Harris
Agnes Hastings
Bell Hayward
J Augusta Holmes
Sarah E Harding
Mrs Julia A Johnson
Mary C Kendall
Augusta A Littlefield
Mary B Lord
Sarah E Miller
Amelia V A Miller
Nellie M Miller
Ella W Mitchell
Minerva V Munroe
Lizzie R Paulding
Annie Louise Payson
Mrs Nellie A Peabody
Laura A Perry
Emma L Pierce
Alfred W Pike
Laura S Plummer
Cora A Poole
Mrs Thos F Pratt
Carrie Louise Pycott
Mrs Mattie A Richards
Lucy B Roberts
Lydia S Robinson
Laura S Russell
John Oliver Staples
Callie M Stark
Emma B Starkey
Caroline B Steele
Susan B Stevens
Sarah A Tateum
Mrs Edwin J Thompson
Mrs Walter Thorpe
Elisha M White, M D
Grace C White
Alice Juliet White
Lizzie C Williamson
Charlotte T Wood
Fannie E Woodard
_New Jersey._
Ella E Allen
Anna B Armstrong
Juliette P Bradshaw
Julia E Bulkley
Effie J Barlow
Minnie P Chapman
Anna C Collins
Jennie N Cushman
Sarah S Cushman
Mrs J B DeVoe
C Minnie Fackenthall
Mrs George F Fink
Mary Fitch
Frances E Goddard
Emma W Green
Henry W Hand
Abraham M Harris
Thos T Howard, M D
Rev Jesse L Hurlbut
Miss Susie H Johnson
Anna D Kille
Kate F Kimball
Josie Lusk
Ella A Macpherson
Nellie P McCain
M Elizabeth Mead
Emeline McNaughton
Sophie B Ricord
Sarah L Roberts
George S Robinson
Julia S Scribner
Ezra D Simons
Lillie M Stanger
Mrs Lizzie H Swain
Miss Louise Talmage
Mrs Ella R Tanner
Miss Emma V Tennyson
Jno Rechab Westwood
Thomas R White Jr
M Emily Wick
Chas Stout Woodruff
_Maine._
Lydia M Bennett
Eleanor E Jones
Eugene H Judkins
Miss Louisa B Merrill
Clara A Nichols
L L Phelps
Mrs Martha C Stowe
Mrs Edward H Smiley
_New Hampshire._
Mary E Bradley
Cora H Brown
Emily R French
Miss S W Kendall
Miss Ella F Kimball
Kittie C Lowell
Joseph Waite Presby
Isabel S Presby
Mrs A F Stevens
Mary Elizabeth Young
_Vermont._
R J Chrystie
Lucy A Chrystie
Mrs Fidelia Chubb
Mrs Laura M Dickey
Mrs Harriet M Dickey
Sara A Nash
Abbie S Pinney
Julia Prior Tarbell
_Connecticut._
Mrs Mary D H Bassett
Esther E Bishop
Anna M Bishop
Ada G Blanchard
Miss Carrie Dusenbury
Edward E Ellsworth
Emma H Gaylord
Hattie F Hayden
Matilda May
Celia A Peck
Anna F Pomeroy
Francis Dwight Rood
Mrs Jennie B Sawyer
Hattie C Sill
Miss Lillian Strong
Josephine M S Vorce
Abbie P Weaver
Mary E Wellman
Chas Phelps Wellman
Warham H Williams
_Rhode Island._
Mrs Harriet M Denison
Sue Morrison Everett
Elizabeth W Mallery
Abby B Metcalf
Mary Noyes
_West Virginia._
Julia M Atkinson
M Louisa Berry
Alpheus H Mahone
Alice Virginia Wilson
_District of Columbia._
J D Croissant
Weston Flint
Court Foster Wood
Ida Ellen Wood
_Indiana._
Mrs Louisa R Abbott
I C Ash
Ann Eliza Babb
Hattie B S Blythe
Augustus Bradley
Miss Celia M Case
Mrs Harriet L Chapin
Mrs Annie R Conwell
Nancy C Cornell
Maggie E Crist
Miss Nellie Devor
Lizzie Dunlop
Elloine Frink
Anna L Gardiner
William M George
Adam J Gerlach
Mary Alice Gilmore
Noah Granger
Mary A Hancock
Miss Nellie B Hart
Mabel Hawks
Cynthia J Hawn
Mary Verlina Jessup
Mrs Frances E Joslin
Mary V Knevels
Mary E Leaming
Mary T Lodge
Mrs Salome S McCain
Helen B Miller
Emma Millington
Marion E Moody
Alva C May
Amanda C Nicholson
Mrs Ellen A Parmater
Mrs W G Peck
Fountin W Poindexter
Mrs Martha Reynolds
Eva Riley
William S Roney
Jane W Seeley
Benjamin C Sherrick
Mrs Maggie C Stevens
Rachel A Strain
John R Tanquary
Eliza Ann Yeoman
_Illinois._
George T Anglen
Florence E Anthony
Anna J Barker
Sarah Eliza Beers
William Blair
Mrs Jane E Briggs
Ella R Brooks
Justina P Bumstead
Carrie G Burge
Lillia S Brushingham
Isabella L Candee
Mary S Cochran
May B Crane
John T Curtiss
Emily A Delano
Mrs Julia A Davis
Rachel S Davidson
Mrs Maggie Entwistle
Rolando Z Fahs
Mary M Fahs
Orren B Folger
Belle Foster
Rev J O Foster
Harriet Haynes Fry
Mrs Joseph H Foster
Charlotte V Gemmill
Mrs Lizzie N Gilbert
Libni Benj Hayman
Mrs M J Hill
Mary O Hepperly
Mrs S W Holmes
Mrs Nellie A Hood
James Hood
Matilda S Howell
Caroline A Ingersoll
Miss Nellie Jerauld
Lucy M Jerauld
Mrs Mary R Leggett
Mattie R Leiper
Archibald K Leiper
Martha Jessie Lewis
Mrs Samuel M Martin
Clarinda Murphy
Mrs May M Mitchell
Etta A Neel
Mrs Mary E Payne
Helen A Peck
Cornelius Luther Perry
Albert James Perry
Albina H Perry
Mrs L Pyles
Mrs Rodney G Perley
Kate H M Ramsay
Miss Elizabeth Ramsay
Marion Ramsdell
Mrs Nellie G Rollins
Mary C Rood
Miss Lizzie Rosborough
Mrs E Rosborough
Mrs Mary E Ross
W A Ryan
Mary O Severance
Ellen H Severance
Mrs Isabel Sheets
Laura C Sheridan
Sarah E C Shumway
Mrs Mary South
Adah E Stevenson
Sara P Stevenson
Nellie Stewart
N M Stokes
Millie J Stokes
Francis M Van Freese
E B Waggoner
Mrs Mary H Watson
Mrs Henry G Whipple
Hannah M Winslow
_Kansas._
Harriet Aiken
Addison Ault
Mrs Addison Ault
Nelson Case
Mary E Case
Mrs Anna E Clark
Sarah F Crane
Mrs Emily J Davidson
Stella M Farr
M Luther Gates, M D
Gussie B Greene
Mrs Anna H Johnston
William J Lightfoot
Duncan C Milner
Emma W Parker
M V B Parker
Walter A Saville
Mrs Martha Sherman
Mrs M E Wharton
G G Wharton
_Iowa._
Mrs Pruella Baker
Lottie W Beall
Mrs Josie Beals
Fred Benzinger
Elizabeth W Berry
Shadrach C Bond
Cornelia L Bradley
Cynthia L Conger
Lettie Case
Jennie H Clark
Mrs Martha A Cross
Phebe L Elliott
Mrs Frances F Earhart
May Fetter
Lyman H Fitch
Mary P Gilchrist
Frances E Hamilton
Charles Hancock
John R Hanley
Ella H Harring
Abram N Harring
Mrs Anna M Hatch
M Y Howe
Leona E Howe
Thomas V Hunt
P M Jewell
Sally M Johnson
May Leyda
Clara Lillibridge
Annie L Lyman
Mrs Emma L Mahin
Clara Mann
Sarah A McCulla
Mrs Ida M McKinley
Mrs Emma J Merry
Eunice B Miller
Rev Charles L Nye
J A Pickler
Alice M Pickler
Mary E Pierce
Ella S Raff
Amelia Randall
Mary A Rann
Sarah G Sawyer
Mary L Seevers
Lottie A Shepard
Frank Shepard
Kate E Shimmin
Sesco Stewart, M D
Mrs Emma B Stewart
Betsy A Stockwell
Ida M Sherman
Mrs Elizabeth C Soper
Mrs L F Trowbridge
Lucy M Vinson
Mary E Ware
Cara U Wetmore
Mrs Mary U Wheeler
Mary A White
May Louise White
Mrs Mary L Williston
Candace Worth
Belle L Washburne
_Michigan._
Mary S Andrews
Ida Ashley
Stella Ashley
Hattie D Ayres
Rev Alfred S Badger
Julia Violet Badger
Sebia C Baker
M Orinda Barkley
Mrs George W Barlow
Mary A Beardslee
Sarah E Beddow
Mrs Sarah M Bennett
John R Blake
Mrs N Louise Blake
Almira A Bliss
Eloise M Bliss
Prill V Boyce
Franklin Bradley
Mrs L D Bradley
Mrs Almira M Brigham
Hattie C Buel
Libbie E Cairns
Sarah L Cawley
Melville W Chase
Mrs N Clark
George L Cole
Mrs Ida Cole
Evangeline Colvin
Annie S Corkins
Hattie A Corkins
Mrs Lucy M Daniels
Mrs Anna T Despelder
Sarah E Dickinson
Mrs A S Doolittle
Mrs J P Estabrook
Mary N Fisk
Kate Forsyth
Elizabeth M Goslin
Emma A Hall
Marcia Hall
Agnes N Hallenbeck
Mary E Harrington
Hannah Harris
Ella Hayes
Mrs Henry Hill
Charles H Howard
John Weston Hutchins
Emma L Keeny
Mary A Kellogg
Erastus L Kellogg
Mrs Susie A Kendrick
Florence Ida Knappen
Hattie B Knappen
Jennie S Knappen
Esther E Lawrence
Mary L Lowell
Mrs Lottie E McKercher
David B Millar
Lewis Nelson Moon
Rev Josiah G Morgan
Mrs A J Morgan
Chester J Murray
Mrs Hattie Murray
Sarah M Newton
Sidney J Parsons
Mrs Lucie M Prittie
Edward F Randolph
Julia E Richards
Wesley C Richards
Mrs H Maria Roe
Nettie I Rogers
Emma L Rogers
Martha E Rogers
Hattie Maud Rood
Antoinette B Shattuck
S Della Shattuck
Jennie Sherwood
Mrs Jennie Singer
Alvah G Smith
Armilla I Starr
Flora W Stone
Frances J Sumner
Angie L Taylor
Mamie E Utter
Hattie L Waters
Emma P Weller
Mrs Robert White
H Lottie Whitehead
Ellen C Whitley
Lillian E Wilcox
Mrs Ellen L Woodworth
George B Woodworth
Welcome H Young
_Wisconsin._
Helen F Blinn
Anna Loyd Burke
Edward Ross Burke
Isabella O Daniels
Minnie Denel
William C Eddy
S Louise Hart
Mrs E E Hodgson
Miss De Ette Howard
Mrs C A Hunt
Emma A Jewell
Agnes M Lake
George Christy McElroy
Andrew Porter
Altha E Shultz
Elnura R Slocum
Louise Tufts Slocum
Mrs H Z Smith
Mary W Tufts
_Minnesota._
Rev S S Burton
Fred Hayden Carruth
Mrs Addie E Cook
Ruby C C Gale
Mrs E E Holbrook
Julia M King
Noah Lathrop
Mrs Mary Ann Pratt
Mary E Richardson
Arminda J Smith
_Dakota._
W S Birch
Alice H Birch
_Oregon._
Mrs Julia E S Moore
Mary Shane Smith
_Washington Territory._
Belle Harrison
_Nebraska._
Ellen May Austin
Mrs Carrie Blewett
Flora S Brownell
Mary Maria Curtis
Julia Riley
Jeremiah D Stewart
Sarah D Stewart
Maggie Wadsworth
_Missouri._
Mrs F S Beggs
Francis Slack Beggs
Jessie M Brownell
James Bowman Daniel
Rev George A Maston
Cora S McIntyre
Mrs F A Meredith
William Stephens
Mrs Tinnie Webster
Daniel H Webster
Alfred Zartman
_California._
Maria C Gay
Sarah E A Higgins
Myrtie C Hudson
John William Kemp
Mrs Nellie C Meacham
Thomas Scott Price
Frederick D Seward
Clarke Whittier, M D
_New Mexico._
S Arabella Rood
_Texas._
Elloura C McColm
_Kentucky._
Joseph Courtney
Mrs A M Drennan
Sallie Jaynes
Charles Edwin Parsons
Benjamin M Sherrill
Sarah L Sherrill
Dennis Spurrier
_Maryland._
Mary R Hanley
Mazie Knipp
Robt Patterson Mason
E Lizzie Sadtler
Amy L Sadtler
_Tennessee._
Emma B Browne
Henry S Jacoby
Laura L Jacoby
Esther Morgan
Mary E Roberts
_North Carolina._
Theo F H Blackman
Evelyn C Jones
Sallie Reucher Jones
Mrs W F Steele
_Colorado._
Florence A Burr
William Alton Burr
Warren M Fletcher
Mrs Warren M Fletcher
Mrs Susie E Little
James W McCreery
Mary E W Olmsted
Mrs C D H Thompson
Mary J Tison
Absalom K White
Frances G White
_Delaware._
John Lawrence Booth
Rev J Duke McFaden
Naomi R Simpson
_Alabama._
Eudora Conoley
William A Davis
Mrs S F Hobbs
Helen H Rothrock
Mary F Wells
_South Carolina._
A S Dobbs, D D
_Georgia._
Fannie E Roy
Isoline M Wimberly
_Arkansas._
W E Smith
Miss Hattie N Young
_Mississippi._
William L French
_Florida._
Joseph Henry Stoney
_Canada._
William C Henderson
Mrs B F Johnson
Emily M McCallum
Mrs Elizabeth Munro
Minnie Munro
Lewis Charles Peake
Miss Elizabeth Warren
_Mexico._
Mrs W H McBroom
_New Brunswick._
Aquila Lucas
_Nova Scotia._
Mrs Olivia C Whitman
Anna S MacMahon
Sarah Robinson
_England._
Mrs H E Kratz
Henry Elton Kratz
_India._
Clark P Hard
_Japan._
Miss Elizabeth Russell
BOOKS.
Cassell, Petter, Galpin & Co. publish, among many other works, a good
line of literature for children, which, we have no doubt, will meet the
hearty commendation of all who purchase books of this kind.
Beautiful covers will often sell a child’s book, while the material
contained between the covers is of a very indifferent quality. The
books of this house have beautiful binding, but they are not excellent
in this regard at the expense of their contents. A careful examination
of any one of the works mentioned below will convince any one of their
value.
“Wild Animals and Birds” is most handsomely bound and
beautifully illustrated. It is just such a work as should
be put into the hands of every boy in the land, and it
is worthy the study of even a naturalist. The author has
selected a number of the most prominent members of the
animal kingdom and written their histories with a view to
their natural aspects, showing that life among wild animals
is not wholly occupied in a struggle for bare existence, and
he has so woven into his descriptions their habits that one
is highly pleased and instructed.
“Papa’s Little Daughters,” by Mrs. Mary D. Brine, is so
copiously supplied with engravings that if it contained
nothing more it would be enjoyed by the children. But this
is not the case, it is a story well told and pleasing. The
binding is elegant and the print clear and perfect.
The frontispiece of “Fred Bradford’s Debt,” by Joanna H.
Mathews, would instantly call forth the admiration of
children. Bound in handsomely-colored covers it is certainly
a charming book.
“Living Pages from Many Ages” contains many historical
events, both of war and peace. It is from the pen of Mary
Hield, is nicely illustrated and the subjects are well
selected. It takes up many of the most noted warriors,
giving short accounts of their lives, tells of the struggles
of artists, scholars, reformers, of adventures in all
continents and of trials of religious sects and oppressed
countries.
A child’s book of poetry, gotten up in elaborate style, with
picture covers, and pages with colored illustrations, is
entitled “Two Tea Parties.” As a publication of its kind it
is simply elegant.
A magazine for the young, with the title of “Little Folks”
is a perfect gem. It contains much to interest grown people,
and everything to entertain children. It is a book of nearly
four hundred pages and gives amusements, recreations,
stories, illustrated poems, music, Sunday reading, puzzles,
descriptions of beasts, birds and fishes, enigmas,
questions, etc.
CAN’T COOK AS MOTHER DID.
How many a young wife’s heart is saddened and happiness
scattered, because she can not “cook as mother did.” It is
strange, sadly strange, and yet we all know it is true. How
many a time has the tender-hearted reporter felt his soul
bursting with grief as he told the harrowing story of some
poor suffering woman, whose cheerful sunshine had turned to
dismal darkness just because she could not “cook as mother
did.” And how it delights the heart of the reporter when he
chances to hear of one devoted young wife who is rescued
from the gloomy fate of so many, in a manner so simple and
easy that the only wonder is that all are not saved. This
one to whom he now refers was led a blushing and blooming
bride, but a few short weeks ago, to the altar by one of our
most promising and prominent young men. He promised to do
everything in his power to make her happy, but in an evil
hour he made the dangerous discovery that she could not
“cook as mother did.” He told her so, and from that hour the
life-light of happiness began to die out in her once radiant
eyes. The bloom that put to shame the fancied perfection of
the rose departed from her cheek, the voice that welcomed
him to a happy heart and home grew silent as the grave, and
the young husband saw that something must be done soon. He
asked the sorrowful wife why she was so sad, and she told
him because she could not “cook as his mother did,” but if
she had ROYAL BAKING POWDER he could say so no longer. Like
a sensible fellow, he ordered a dozen boxes at once, and now
he says he is afraid that his wife will raise the roof off
the house some day, but he don’t care, for she is happy.
* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes:
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
The list of the graduates on the final pages of this issue was for
the greatest part printed without any period/fullstop after initials
or abbreviations. Where an anomaly occurred, it was removed to match
the rest of the form. Also, alphabetizing seems to have been more of a
general effort than an exacting one. This was retained as printed.
Page 243, word “from” added to text (banished from the realm)
Page 246, “ikely” changed to “likely” (time he seemed likely)
Page 246, “Sterling” changed to “Stirling” (castles save Stirling)
Page 260, “pertraits” changed to “portraits” (unknown, and these
portraits)
Page 261, “ust” changed to “just” (believe just persons)
Page 266, “pading” changed to “padding” (together, with a padding)
Page 268, “escapse” changed to “escapes” (gratify temptation, escapes)
Page 287, “one-eight” changed to “one-eighth” (Saturn is about
one-eighth)
Page 298, “Dumm” changed to “Dunn” as she is in the middle of the rest
of the Dunns in that section (Maggie J Dunn)
*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Chautauquan, Vol. III, February 1883 - A Monthly Magazine Devoted to the Promotion of True Culture. - Organ of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle." ***
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